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Appletons’ 

New Handy- Volume Series. 


RAYMONDE. 


BY 

ANDRE THEURIET. 



NEW YORK : 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright by D. Appleton & Co., 1878. 


APPLETONS’ 

MW HAIDT-YOLIJME SERIES. 

i Brilliant Novelettes ; Romance, Adventure, Travel, Humor ; Histone, 
Literary, and Society Monographs. 

j 

I The later developments of literary taste with American readers 

' indicate two things : first, a preference for compact and lucid out- 
lines of historic or literary periods, and for stories which, while 
within the compass of a single reading, shall have all the symmetry, 
the artistic treatment, the careful character-drawing, and the fresh- 
ness of incident, which mark the lengthier but scarcely more ambi- 
tious novel ; second, a demand for books in a form so convenient and 
handy that the volume may always be carried in the pocket, ready 
for use on the train, on the steamboat, in the horse-car, at moments 
snatched at twilight or bedtime, while sitting on the sea-shore or 
rambling in the woods — at all periods of rest or leisure, whether in 
town or country. 

In recognition of these preferences and needs, Appletons’ New 
Handy-Volume Series is projected. The books in this series are 
of a size convenient for the pocket, and yet large enough to admit 
of bold and handsome type in order that they may be perused with- 
out fatigue, with that sense of restfulness and pleasure which well- 
printed volumes alone confer. They will appear rapidly, in uniform 
style, at low prices, and will draw their material from American, 
English, and Continental sources, forming eventually a delightful li- 
brary, varied in character and fairly exhaustless in the refined enter- 
tainment it will afford. Fiction necessarily predominates in the 
plan, but it is designed to make the range of selection comprehen- 
sive, so as to include works of every variety of theme, from old 
authors as well as new, and attractive to students as well as general 
readers. . 

Any volume in the series mailed post-paid to any address within the 
United States, on receipt of the price. 

D. APPLETOHi & CO., 549 & 551 Broadway, New York. 


APPLETONS’ NEW HANDY-VOLUME SERIES, 


RATMOlsTDE. 


A TALE. 



' ANDRfi TIIEURIET, 

AUTHOR OF “G beard’s MARRIAGE,” “THE HOUSE OF THE TWO BARBELS,” 
“ANTOINETTE,” ETC. 




NEW YORK: 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

549 AND 551 BROADWAY. 

1878 . • 




n 

r<. 


COPTEIGUT BT 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 
1878. 


RAYMONDE. 


I. 

The forest reveals to its votaries a thousand 
hidden charms entirely unknown to a Parisian 
whose daily walks are bounded by the Arc-de- 
Triomphe or the Tuileries. Mushroom-hunting is 
one of these impassioned pleasures whose rural 
flavor can be relished only by the initiated. 

To set out at early morn for the woods steam- 
ing with dew ; to penetrate the forest obliquely 
traversed by the rosy illumination of the sunbeams; 
there, in a stillness scarcely broken by a titmouse’s 
twitter or a squirrel’s nibble, to watch, with the 
scent of a dog trained to truffle-hunting and the 
devout respect of a gourmand, for the numerous 
varieties of mushrooms that have sprung up dur- 
ing a single summer night; what keener and more 
innocent pleasure of its kind can be imagined ? 
It combines the essence and substance of human 
enjoyment, the excitement of the chase, the deli- 


4 


KAYMONDE. 


cate surprise of attaining the unexpected, and the 
hope, long anticipated, of an appetizing dish for 
the evening repast. 

Professor Noel Hurtevant indulged in reflec- 
tions like these, one July morning, while passing 
through the woods separating the valley of Au- 
berive from the defile of Vivey. He sauntered in 
cheerful mood through the mushroom-bearing 
lands of the Fosses forest, with his basket on his 
arm and his dog following closely at his heels. 
The rain-storms had been frequent at the com- 
mencement of summer, and the whole cryptoga- 
mous race had prematurely developed under the 
influence of the warmth and moisture. The snow- 
balls abounded in the glade^ ; the heliotropes 
sparkled in the moss, like coins fresh from the 
mint ; and the barrel-shaped mushrooms rounded 
among the heath their brown backs, half devoured 
by insects. M. Noel, knife in hand, vigorously 
sniffed the morning air, dug up the grafs^knelt 
down, and got up again with the nerv<g||^pi^c- 
ity of a lean cat. From time to timd, to ihcrease 
the excitement, he called out to his dog : 

“ Come here, Vagabonde 1 Didn’t you see that 
coulmelle opening its parasol among the St. John’s 
wort? Well, you are like your sex — a great deal 
of noise and little work ! Why do you look at 
me so reproachfully ? I mean exactly what I say, 
you gay deceiver, and your lackadaisical looks 
will not change my mind ! ” 


RAYMONDE. 


5 


M. Noel was over sixty years old. He was 
small in stature and thin, and his whole pei*son 
was nearly hidden under a long surtout, which, 
through the combined influence of sun and rain, 
presented every possible shade of faded green. 
His grayish beard grew like brushwood, and his 
white hair fell in disorder over his uneven shoul- 
ders. His nose with expanded nostrils, and his 
large mouth and projecting jawbones, gave to his 
countenance at first sight an appearance of vul- 
garity ; but a high forehead, and brown eyes 
with a profoundly sad, almost bitter expression, 
modified the disagreeable effect of the lower part 
of the face, and revealed the man who thought 
much and suffered much. Vagabonde, his dog, 
had the same common appearance ; but she re- 
deemed this want of distinction by an expression 
of striking originality. She was a cross between 
a wolf and a fox ; her yellow coat spotted with 
black, her round, bushy tail, spread out like a 
plume, and especially her fine head, elongated and 
sly, with the tip of a gray nose, and malicious, 
glittering black eyes, betrayed her savage origin. 

After receiving her master’s reprimand, the 
dog went off with an affectation of humility, her 
tail between her legs, and her ears haiSng down. 

“ Ah ! you are sulking,” muttered t^pld man, 
shrugging his shoulders. As you please ! . . . , 
It is of no use to be worried by such mincing 
manners in persons of your sex,” 


6 


EAYMONDE. 


He silently resumed his search for mushrooms 
through the heat. Meantime the sun’s rays grew 
more oppressive, and the basket, full to the brim, 
had grown heavy. M. Noel wiped his forehead, 
and looked round for a comfortable place to 
rest. He heard the murmur of a spring at a little 
distance in the direction of the declivity leading 
to Vivey, and turned his steps toward a clump of 
beech-trees at whose base the water had hollowed 
out for itself a reservoir. The moss-covered roots 
made a seat soft as could be desired, and the old 
man threw himself upon it, resting his forehead 
on his elbow. 

“ Oh for the elasticity of youth ! ” he sighed, 
stretching out his wearied limbs with painful 
effort. And by degrees, either from fatigue or 
sadness, his countenance lengthened and assumed 
a sorrowful expression. 

His head, bent forward by the position in 
which he was lying, was reflected in the water, 
darkened by water-cresses growing at the bottom, 
and his glance, fixed in melancholy mood upon 
the mirror of the spring, became more and more 
dreamy. By a singular effect of optics or ima- 
gination, the reflection that he saw cradled in the 
water was suddenly transformed and took on 
the lineaments of youth. Instead of the coun- 
tenance of an old man with pinched features 
and grayish skin, he discerned little by little, at 
the bottom of the reservoir framed in mints, a 


RAYMONDE. 


7 


beardless face with eager eyes and brown hair — 
his own face when he was twenty years old ; and 
insensibly, through his waking dream, the mem- 
ories of former days were pictured on the green 
water. 

He recognized himself, a graduate of the Nor- 
mal School, in a restaurant of the Palais Royal, 
where his classmates were giving a feast in honor 
of their leader, the winner of the highest prizes ; 
and this triumphant leader was himself, Noel. 
He saw again the salon with its gilt mouldings, 
adorned with lofty mirrors, in which rows of gas- 
lights were reflected farther than the eye could 
reach ; he heard the clinking of the glasses as 
they touched each other, and the enthusiastic 
toasts, to which he replied in a voice choked with 
emotion. How many ambitious projects, how 
many glorious dreams mounted then like cham- 
pagne in golden beads into his excited brain ! He 
was young, healthy, and full of hope. He lived 
in that summer of life when the fruits of illusion 
still hang upon the branches of the enchanted 
tree ; the sun is ready to ripen them, and all that 
seems necessary is to stretch out the hand and 
gather them. 

At this very moment, the dog, tired of sulking, 
planted herself directly in front of her master. 
Seated on her hind legs, with her nose upturned, 
her tail wagging, and her eyes full of tender in- 
quiry, she seemed to say : “ What good does it 


8 


RAYMONDE. 


do to think about these things ? ” But M. Noel 
paid no attention to her, and buried himself deeper 
than ever in his dreams. Once more she tried to 
attract his attention by an expressive barking, and 
then, raising one foot, she suddenly scratched the 
di’eamer’s knee. M. Noel did not even turn his 
head. Out of all patience, the dog began to snap at 
a series of imaginary flies, with cracking of the 
jaw and comic contortions. At last, vexed at 
having lavished to no purpose all her accomplish- 
ments for her master’s entertainment, she threw 
herself heavily on the ground with an air of deep 
discouragement, while giving utterance to a mel- 
ancholy howl. 

The forest, animated in all directions, lulled 
M. Noel’s meditations with its confused and har- 
monious murmuring. Thousands of insects buzzed 
among the briers, the woodpeckers hammered 
with their beaks on the bark of the beech-trees, 
and the jays chattered in the branches. Suddenly, 
from the depths of a village buried in a hollow of 
the valley, the sound of silver-toned bells was 
wafted through the forest. It was a loud and 
merry peal, like the music for a marriage festival. 
M. Noel listened, shook his long, white hair, and 
gave out a plaintive sigh. 

Did you ever chance to find the lost key of an 
old-fashioned chest of drawers that had been shut 
up for many years, and succeed after infinite pains 
in pushing the bolt of the rusty lock? The 


RAYMONDE. 


9 . 


drawer, opened with great effort, reveals hiding- 
places full of old treasui’es, still arranged as they 
were left half a centmy ago. It is a resurrection; 
the letters yellow with age, the hooks with worm- 
eaten pages, the ribbons with the colors all faded 
out, the smelling-bottle still impregnated with a 
perfume now out of use — all these old things are 
the sweet and sad ghosts of a vanished world. 

Alas ! each one of us carries in a corner of his 
heart one of these secret drawers, full of relics 
with bitter perfume ; no one suspects its existence, 
and the hiding-place remains forgotten for years, 
until some accident reveals the key that opens the 
rusty lock. 

The distant music of the bells was for M. Noel 
the magic sesame throwing open the mysterious 
and long-closed door of the past. 

Was the current of the spring disturbed, or 
did a misty vapor pass over the old man’s eyes ? 
He saw in the reservoir nothing but sand and mud, 
and he thought with disgust of the monotonous 
experience that had followed his first years of 
illusion. And now the perspective in the bed of 
the fountain took on a form of heart-breaking 
sadness. It was made up of a gloomy and iso- 
lated house in a nook of the woods, a solitary and 
monotonous close of life, with a fantastic dog and 
musty books for companions. 

He was in the midst of this sorrowful and mis- 
anthropic meditation when the dog commenced a 


10 


KAYMONDE. 


furious barking, and suddenly bounded under the 
trees, twisting herself in such a marvelous fashion 
that her head and tail almost joined. 

‘‘Yes, yes ! ” exclaimed a voice, whose drawl- 
ing intonations betrayed the Langrois accent ; 
“ you are a good dog, and you have more wit than 
many human beings I know. Ah ! M. Noel, are 
you asleep, or do you fail to recognize your old 
friends ? ” 

The old man started, and, raising his head, 
perceived the chief forester of Auberive, followed 
by his assistant. The forester, tall and thin, with 
mustache and hair cut like a brush, a face 
browned by exposure to the weather, and a deep 
scar on his left cheek, had under his faded green 
uniform the stately bearing of an old soldier. 
The assistant, in a blouse, with his gun resting on 
his shoulder, kept at a respectful distance from 
his superior. 

“I beg your pardon, Verdier,” said M. Noel. 
“ I was dozing, and I had a disagreeable dream.” 

“ Yery well ! I will tell you some good news 
to waken you. We have had a long letter from 
your former pupil.” 

The professor’s face brightened. 

“ How is Antoine ? ” he asked with great inter- 
est. 

“ Our Antoine has done wonders ! ” replied the 
forester, in a tone full of proud satisfaction. 
“ Go with me to the Belle ^fitoile, where I must 


RAYMONDE. 


11 


mark the wood blown down by the last storm, and 
I will tell you everything as we go along.” 

The old man silently took up his basket and 
followed the fOTester. 

“ I told you,” he continued, “ that Antoine had 
sent us good tidings. He has passed his examina- 
tion for a fellowship, and has been appointed — 
guess what ! — Professor of Botany at the Mu- 
seum.” 

“ You see I was right in rousing his interest 
in scientific studies,” said M. Noel. 

“ Perhaps so ; but, as we are not rich, I was 
obliged to consider the matter on all sides. A 
scientific profession is very desirable, but it is also 
very uncertain ; while, once admitted to the school 
of forestry, Antoine was sure of earning his liv- 
ing.” 

“Yes, his bare living ; perhaps eighteen hun- 
dred francs a year.” 

“ I know that very well ; but his mother, 
ScEurette, is not ambitious, and she has a great 
dread of Paris. ‘ I shall never see him again ! ’ 
she moaned from morning till evening. Even 
now she wakens me on winter nights with a start. 
‘ Ah ! ’ she sighs, ‘ how it snows ! And to think 
that the dear child perhaps this very hour is wan- 
dering about the streets of Paris !’ She sees him 
crushed by a carriage, murdered in a corner of the 
street, or something else equally frightful ! It is 
a terrible thing to be the mother of an only son, 


12 


RAYMONDE. 


for there is no end to the foolish fears that find a 
lodging-place in her brain.” 

“If you pay attention to a woman’s senti- 
mentality, you will never see the end of it,” 
growled M. Noel. 

“ Indeed ! I do nothing but laugh at it. Be- 
sides, Soeurette is convinced that you were right. 
She is proud enough of her son, I can tell you, 
and tells over her beads many times in gratitude 
for your devotion to him ! ” 

“ Bo not speak of it ! ” muttered the good man. 

“What then do you want us to speak of? 
Bid you not give him your time and even your 
money ? The truth is, Soeurette and I can never 
find words for all the gratitude we owe you.” 

M. Noel kicked out his foot emphatically. 

“ You owe me nothing ! ” he exclaimed in an 
angry voice. “ WTiat I did, I did for my own satis- 
faction ! I took as much pleasure in seeing the 
development of your son’s fine faculties as you do 
in the growth of a beautiful tree. I took care of 
him, and surrounded him with a rich soil. It 
warmed my blood and made my days shorter and 
less tedious. It was selfishness, that was all ! you 
owe me nothing, understand me — nothing ! Bon’t 
mention it again.” 

“ I will not mention it if it vexes you,” replied 
the forester, amazed at the old man’s ill-humor. 
“ I will content myself with thinking of it. But 
hush ! listen ! ” 


RAYMONDE. 


13 


A sound came from the depths of the neigh- 
boring valley, something like the crash of a break- 
ing branch. The foresters exchanged glances of 
intelligence. 

‘^Some one is there,” growled M. Yerdier, 
“ who does not wait for the wind to blow down 
the branches.” 

‘‘ The noise comes from Spring Yalley,” said 
the assistant. 

“We must go and see,” replied Yerdier, biting 
his mustache. “We will make our way to the 
valley, and try to catch the thief in the act. Take 
care of Yagabonde, M. Noel, and keep her from 
making a noise.” 

The old man tied his handkerchief to the dog’s 
collar for a string, and, having previously admin- 
istered to her an injunction to hold her tongue, 
followed the foresters in their rapid progress tow- 
ard the bottom of the valley. The sound of their 
steps was deadened by the moss covering the path, 
so that the wood-cutter, absorbed in his work, did 
not hear them coming. The three men rushed 
upon him just as he had finished breaking the 
highest branch of a maple-tree. Yagabonde, es- 
caping from M. Noel’s leading-string, sprang forth 
with such frantic barking that the trespasser let 
his hatchet fall, astounded at the sudden outburst. 

This trespasser was a poor little fellow, thir- 
teen years old, lean and spry as a monkey, with 
matted hair hanging over a face whose features 


14 


RAYMONDE. 


bore an expression of artfulness and low cunning. 
Frightened by the menacing appearance of the 
foresters, he stood with his lips wide apart, and 
with his great round eyes staring like those of a 
cat caught in the very act. 

“ Rogue ! ” cried the forester. 

“Where did you come from, you scoun- 
drel ? ” rudely asked the assistant, who had taken 
possession of the hatchet. “You must tell us 
your name, and besides we shall confiscate your 
hatchet.” 

At the thought of this confiscation, which dis- 
turbed him more than anything else, the gamin 
burst out into noisy demonstrations of despair. 

“Pardon me, M. Yerdier ! ” he howled in the 
midst of his sobs ; “ I will never do so again ! 
Give me back my hatchet ; if I go home without 
it I shall get a sound beating ! ” 

“ That is no more than you deserve, you wick- 
ed boy. Where do you live ? ” 

The boy paid no attention to this question. 
Instead of replying, he twisted his hands desper- 
ately in his tattered blouse and filled the valley 
with his lamentations. 

“ My hatchet ! ” he cried ; “ pardon ! my 
hatchet ! ” 

A sound of branches being trampled upon and 
the trot of a horse on the path leading from the 
Yivey road suddenly attracted the attention of 
the three men. A young lady appeared abruptly 


RAYMONDS. 


15 


between tbe shoots of two hazel-nut trees. She 
was mounted on a small Breton horse ; and, urg- 
ing him forward at a vigorous pace, he came 
bounding through the branches with the same im- 
petuosity with which he would have galloped over 
the soil of his native land. 

M. Noel and the foresters, surprised at this un- 
expected intrusion, turned toward the unknown 
visitor, whose youthful and imperious beauty made 
a vivid impression upon their minds. She had 
red hair, and her luxuriant tresses, half -unbound 
by the caressing branches, had fallen beneath her 
Hungarian cap upon her riding-dress, and hung 
in wavy ringlets mingled with blue ribbons. Her 
face, of a rosy paleness, was lighted by large 
fawn-like eyes glittering under long lashes. Bran- 
dishing a whip in her ungloved hand, her nostrils 
quivering, and her mouth full of disdain, she took 
advantage of the surprise of the foresters to urge 
her horse between them and the offender. 

“ You are a set of cowards ! ” she exclaimed, 
in a sarcastic and indignant tone — “ all three of 
you to pounce upon this poor child and make him 
cry ! ” 

M. Verdier, being the first to recover his self- 
possession, bowed gravely to the girl. 

“You are a little too prompt in your judg- 
ment, mademoiselle,” he replied. “ This young 
rogue was making fagots of the best wood in the 
copse.” 


16 


RAYMONDE. 


“ Where is the harm ? ” said the girl. ‘‘ Does 
not the forest belong to every one ? ” 

“By no means. The forest belongs to the 
State, and any one who cuts wood in the . forest 
robs the State.” 

“The State will not be ruined because this 
child has broken off three or four useless branches. 
Go away, little fellow, and leave them to talk as 
much as they please.” 

The gamin threw a shy glance toward his 
protectress, and sobbed in a pitiful tone : 

“ They will not give me back my hatchet ! ” 

“ How ! ” she said, drawing a piece of money 
quickly from her portemonnaie, “ take this, and go 
off as fast as possible.” 

He did not wait for her to repeat the order, 
but seized the money in the twinkling of an eye, 
put it into his mouth, and darted into the thicket, 
where he disappeared. 

M. Noel watched the girl with an increasing 
curiosity. The forester bit his lips. 

“ You set a very bad example,” he said, in an 
angry tone. “ I do not understand how a young 
lady who has been well brought up can encourage 
vagabonds to break the laws in this way.” 

“ Pretty things your laws are ! ” she replied, 
tossing back her flowing hair. 

Then, as the under-forester pretended to go 
after the delinquent, she spurred her horse, al- 
ready impatient and plunging about in all direc- 


RAYMONDE. 


17 


tions, directly across the path. The dog, exas- 
perated by these manoeuvres, commenced harking 
again ; the horse pranced round, sniffing the air 
with a great noise. 

“ You had better take care of your dog ! ” 
cried the angry girl to the assistant, who extended 
his hand to seize the bridle. 

At the same time, endeavoring to strike the 
dog with her whip, the blow fell unintentionally 
upon the assistant’s fingers. Vagabonde, scarcely 
touched, rolled over on M. Noel’s basket ; the 
mushrooms were scattered among the briers, while 
the malicious beast howled as if she had been 
beaten to death. The road was now free, the 
horse started off at a quick pace, and the Ama- 
zon disappeared behind the young trees of the 
valley. 

“ That is a true saying : ‘ Bad as a red-haired 
girl ! ’ Do you know who she is, Saudax ? ” said 
the forester to his assistant. 

“ It must be the young lady who lives at the 
Maison Verte,” he replied, while blowing his hand 
bruised by the whip-lash. 

“Does any one live at the Maison Verte?” 

“Yes, M. Verdier. An iron manufacturer’s 
son, of Franche-Comte, bought the place this win- 
ter ; a M. La Tremblaie, and he has lived there 
four months with his wife and daughter. The 
young woman is a devil unchained, and we have 
just had a specimen of her character.” 

2 


18 


RAYMONDE. 


“ La Tremblaie,” repeated M. Noel, starting ; 
“ did you say La Tremblaie, Saudax ? ” 

The under-forester nodded assent. 

“ Do you know him ? ” he asked. 

The old man shook his head. “No,” he re- 
plied, curtly ; “ I do not know him, and I do not 
care to know him.” 

M. Noel picked up the remains of his mush- 
rooms, whistled to his dog, and said : “ Come, it 
is time to return to Le Chanois. We have made 
a bad beginning for the day. Good-morning, 
messieurs ! ” 


II. 

After leaving the Spring Valley, the Amazon 
quickly reached the main road. ^ As her route led 
up-hill, and passed along the border of a wood, 
she walked her horse, and allowed him to take 
breath until she reached the culminating point, 
whence a delightful view of Vivey could be ob- 
tained. 

The village, overlooked on three sides by per- 
pendicular rocks and wooded escarpments, re- 
poses in the centre of a well of verdure. The 
lowest beeches of the forest almost touch the flat 
stone roofing of the low houses closely collected 
around a stream issuing from the rock. A nar- 
row neck of meadow land separates the dwelling- 


RAYMONDE. 


houses of the opposite declivity, where the trees 
begin again to take on a fleecy form. At a short 
distance from the village the meadow land grows 
a little broader, the stream describes a small arc 
of a circle among the alders, and, in the green 
peninsula formed by the capricious water, an an- 
cient seigniorial manor arises, whose modest main 
building with its slate roof is flanked by two 
turrets capped like extinguishers. An avenue of 
lindens connects it with the village. The walls 
of the habitation are almost entirely concealed 
under ivy and other climbing vines. It is doubt- 
less to this covering of verdure that it owes the 
name of Maison Verte, by which it is known 
throughout the country. 

This abode and its surroundings, as well as 
the smallest nooks of the village, were distinctly 
visible from the girPs point of view. She stopped 
her horse abruptly, and her attention was quick- 
ly directed to a cabriolet with a dusty capote, 
di'awn by a piebald horse, stationed at the Maison 
Verte. 

The owner of the equipage stood in the gate- 
way, making his last bow to a lady at one of the 
lower windows of the house. . He was a huge fel- 
low, long-limbed, formed like a Hercules, and 
dressed like a rustic hunter. After a final saluta- 
tion, he seated himself under the capote of tho 
cabriolet and took the reins ; but the horse, at 
the first stroke of the whip, instead of starting, 


20 


RAYMONDE. 


propped himself on his forelegs, hacked, kicked, 
and finally lay down on his side in the middle of 
the road. The giant jumped from the cabriolet, 
fumbled in his vest-pocket, and, without mani- 
festing the slightest impatience, as if such an 
occurrence were an ordinary affair, planted him- 
self in front of the beast, and showed him at a 
convenient distance something that appeared to 
be a lump of sugar. The amiable animal stretched 
out his neck, got up, and decided to follow the 
bait with which his master enticed him, running 
at the same time with short steps in advance of 
the carriage. 

This great fellow ambling along, with his 
hands behind his back, and turning his head every 
now and then to encourage his spoiled pet, this 
lean hack with his parti-colored skin, and this old 
cabriolet tacking about over the pebble-stones, 
formed such a grotesque picture that the girl, 
looking upon it from her high observatory, was 
convulsed with laughter. After a few minutes 
of this exercise, the giant, judging that his horse 
was sufficiently tractable, slipped away by a 
brusque side movement, leaped with great rapid- 
ity into the cabriolet, seized the reins, and drove 
off on a trot. 

The girl followed the retreating carriage with 
a derisive expression on her lips ; then, humming 
irreverently the air of “ A pleasant journey. Mon- 
sieur Dumollet,” she touched lightly with her 


RAYMONDE. 


21 


whip the little Breton horse, and quickly descend- 
ed the hill toward Vivey. 

The lady to whom the owner of the cabriolet 
had made his parting bow had remained at the 
window. When the carriage disappeared, she 
turned toward the interior of the apartment, where 
a man about fifty years old, buried in an easy- 
chair, was reading a newspaper. 

“Well ! Clotilde,” he asked, “has M. de Pre- 
fontaine succeeded in starting his piebald horse ? ” 

“Yes,” she replied, “but he went through 
with the usual scene of the lump of sugar.” 

She took a seat in front of the reader. The 
two persons facing each other formed a curious 
contrast. The woman, tall, elegant, with a finely 
developed physique, had the warm and rich com- 
plexion belonging to brunettes. She had passed 
her fortieth year, but, if her color had lost its 
freshness, her beauty, slightly masculine, still pre- 
served its brilliancy. Her low and smooth fore- 
head and her fleshy and heavy chin gave evidence 
of an obstinate and tyrannical nature, more em- 
phatic than tender ; but her moist and smiling lips 
and her black eyes sparkling under long lashes 
had an expression that was both alluring and ab- 
sorbing. 

The man was of medium stature, blonde, lym- 
phatic, with distinguished features, but sadly 
wanting in energy. His intelligent but bashful 
eyes and his undecided movements betrayed that 


22 


RAYMONDE. 


soft, dreamy indolence characteristic of certain 
blonde temperaments. His neck, sometimes in- 
clined forward, sometimes idly bent over one 
shoulder, the vagueness of his glances, and the 
slow utterance of his words, gave still more em- 
phatic evidence of the same elements of character. 
A physiologist would have certainly discovered 
in this languishing attitude the first symptoms of 
a weakening of the nerves. 

This woman, with her rich and abundant blood 
and her elastic and resistant nerves, seemed to 
have absorbed the man’s whole vital force, and 
made him revolve, as it were, with the circle of 
her black eyeballs. He yielded at last through 
the pages of his newspaper to her despotic sway, 
for he suddenly folded it up and said, with a 
smile : This Prdfontaine is a worthy man, but 
he is a little heavy, and not very brilliant in con- 
versation.” 

“ Such as he is,” the lady replied, shrugging her 
shoulders, we must be contented with him, since 
he is the only one among our neighbors who has 
deigned to return our visits.” 

M. La Tremblaie suppressed a sigh. 

“Between ourselves,” he replied, “I fear he 
comes here much less on account of us than of 
Raymonde’s beautiful eyes.” 

“ Where is the harm ? ” replied Mme. Clotilde 
La Tremblaie, in an insinuating voice. “ M. de 
Prefontaine is not to be despised. He bears an 


RAYMONDE. 


23 


honorable name, and, if he has no fortune, at least 
he holds a desirable position in the canton. It is 
for your interest to choose a son-in-law who will 
help you to better social relations in the country.” 

“ But Raymonde ? ” 

“She will not be an object of pity if she wins 
a husband who adores her.” 

“ Do you think she has a fancy for M. de Pre- 
fontaine ? ” 

“ I think she has a fancy for being married ! 
In spite of her thoughtlessness, she already begins 
to understand many things, and feels that in the 
matter of husbands she has not the embaiTass- 
ment of a large choice.” 

M. La Tremblaie sighed again, and a moment 
of silence ensued between the two speakers, which 
was interrupted by the trot of a horse under the 
lindens. 

“ There she is ! ” said Mme. Clotilde, going to 
the window. 

A few minutes after the door was suddenly 
thrown open, and the young heroine of the Spring 
Valley, with her hair still in disorder from her 
ride, entered the room, rushed to her father, and 
kissed him. 

“ Have you had a pleasant ride ? ” asked M. 
La Tremblaie, his dreamy face lighted up by a 
smile. 

“ Excellent ! I had a Quixotic adventure that 
I must tell you about.” 


24 


RAYMONDE. 


While you were running round the country,” 
Mme. Clotilde remarked, “ you lost a visit from M. 
de Prefontaine.” 

“I know it,” replied Raymonde, with a wry 
face. I watched at a distance the scene with 
the lump of sugar, and laughed at it heartily.” 

He regretted his misfortune in not meeting 
you.” 

‘‘ He was wrong ; I was in a teasing mood, 
and he would have been my victim.” 

“He will, however, come again to-morrow,” 
continued Mme. La Tremblaie ; “ he is going to 
dine with us, and I hope you will behave less like 
a gamin than usual.” 

Raymonde turned abruptly toward her mother 
with a defiant, almost aggressive expression on 
her countenance. 

“ I have no talent for saying what I do not 
think,” she replied, sharply. “ When I see M. Os- 
min de Prefontaine, droll thoughts come into my 
head. How do you wish me to -treat him ? ” 

“ I wish, mademoiselle,” exclaimed Mme. Clo- 
tilde, passionately, “ that you should pay more 
respect to a man who deserves to be treated se- 
riously ! I leave you with your father, who will 
tell you the rest.” 

She left the room with a stately step, while 
Raymonde followed her retreating form with won- 
dering eyes. 

“ What does it all mean ? ” said the girl, in a 


RAYMONDE. 


25 


low tone, at the same time throwing herself on 
her father’s knees and putting her arms round his 
neck. 

Your mother is right,” replied M. La Trem- 
hlaie, in an embarrassed manner. ‘‘ M. de Prefon- 
taine is a worthy man, whom you must treat with 
more respect.” 

He reflected a moment, while the girl kept her 
place on his knee, then continued : 

“ Raymonde, do you remember your last year 
at the boarding-school ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, indeed ! ” she answered ; ‘‘ it makes me 
yawn even to think of it.” 

“ Do you remember one day when I was in 
the parlor while you were practising on the pi- 
ano ? Your back w^s turned to me, and you did 
not know I was there. Instead of playing, you 
had rested your hands languidly on the key-board 
(I see it now), and you sighed in a lamentable 
tone, ‘ Oh for a little husband ! a dear little hus- 
band ! ’ ” 

“ I believe you, for my life was wearisome be- 
yond endurance.” 

‘‘ And is it still wearisome ? ” 

‘‘ Hot when I am with you ! ” she said, kiss- 
ing him once more ; “ but sometimes, when I 
have been alone too long, I get tired of every- 
thing.” 

“ If, then, a husband should be offered you, 
either little or big ? ” 


26 


RAYMONDE. 


She loosened her arms hastily from his neck, 
and jumped to the floor at a bound. 

“ You want me to marry M. de Prefontaine ? ” 
she cried, looking earnestly at her father, and 
menacing him with her Anger. 

“ That is true ! ” replied M. La Tremhlaie, 
blushing ; “ your mother and I have just been 
talking about it. To speak frankly, this would 
be a good match, provided it pleases you, my dar- 
ling ! ” 

She shrugged her shoulders like a dissatisfied 
child, turned her back to her father, seated her- 
self in front of the window, and began to drum 
upon it with her fingers. 

“Prefontaine,” M. La Tremhlaie timidly re- 
sumed, “is not an effeminate beauty, but he is 
healthy and well formed.” 

“ I should think so ! ” interrupted Raymonde, 
drumming furiously ; “ six feet — a giant ! ” 

“ He has an honorable name ; his ancestors — ” 

“Went to the crusades. I know that by 
heart ! ” 

“ He did his duty bravely during the war ; he 
has a loyal character, a heart like gold, and he 
loves you — ” 

“ Foolishly, that is true ; but if I were to 
marry him, I should always see him running with 
a lump of sugar in front of his piebald horse.” 

“ It is time to put an end to such child’s-play,” 
said M. La Tremhlaie, impatiently ; “ one would 


RAYMONDE. 27 

think that even in this desert country you had all 
the husbands in the world to choose from ! ” 

“ But husbands grow in other countries, I sup- 
pose ! ” 

“ We are fixed here. And then,” pursued 
Raymonde’s father, sadly, “there are other and 
graver reasons that must necessarily limit your 
choice.” 

She turned abruptly toward him. 

“ What are they ? ” she said. 

“You will know them one of these days.” 

“ Very well ! then, why not wait ?” 

“ Because, ungrateful child, I would not like 
to leave you alone vdth your mother, and I may 
die.” 

“ Oh ! ” She looked with a terrified glance 
upon her father’s pale and sickly face, and a mo- 
ment of profound silence ensued. The rhyth- 
mical sound of the scythes in the meadow, the 
distant barking of the village dogs, and the dull 
buzzing of the bees among the lindens of the 
avenue, came in confused murmurs through the 
open window. 

Raymonde returned gently toward M. La Trem- 
blaie, and kneeling at his side, her head raised 
toward his, and her eyes looking straight into his 
— “ My dear father,” she murmured, “ would this 
marriage be a very, very great pleasure to you ? ” 

“ It would make me easy in regard to your 
future, and at the same time give us a firm posi- 


28 


RAYMONDE. 


tion in this country, where we are regarded a lit- 
tle too much as birds of passage. It would be a 
good thing for us all.” 

“Well ! for you — anything for you, you un- 
derstand ! I promise to try my best to get used 
to this idea ; but you must not urge me too much, 
you know ! My mother and him together — you 
must give me time to become accustomed to it by 
degrees.” 

“ Dear child ! ” he said, pressing her hands in 
his — “ poor child ! ” 

Raymonde felt her forehead moistened by a 
tear ; she threw herself on her father’s neck, 
kissed him with a passionate abruptness, and went 
out without saying a word. 

She rushed to her own room with its peaceful 
outlook upon the woods, sat down in the embra- 
sure of the window, and plunged her burning face 
among the ivy leaves hanging from the wall. 

Marriage ! she had often dreamed of it during 
the last two years, in Paris or in the country, with- 
in the four walls of boarding-schools to which she 
had been consigned by the nomadic and peculiar 
life of her parents ; but the ideal husband whose 
shadowy image flitted between her eyes and the 
pages of her book bore little resemblance to the 
colossal Osmin de Prefontaine. He was a hero of 
romance endowed with every fascination, adorned 
with every elegant accomplishment — “charming, 
young, drawing all hearts after him.” 


RAYMONDE. 


29 


Since the family had lived in Vivey she had 
been free to gallop through the woods, and the 
phantom of an ideal lover had again haunted her 
imagination during her wild excursions within the 
depths of the forest. She looked for him in the 
deep ravines, among the murmuring voices of the 
springs, and she imagined he might suddenly ap- 
pear at some winding of the path, like the king’s 
son in the fairy tale. 

Now she must bid farewell to these dreams, 
renounce her wild rides through this land of en- 
chantment, and walk prosaically by the side of 
the real jianck, that chance offered her. He was 
indeed a lover of flesh and bone, without a single 
spiritual grace. And what abounding flesh, what 
a massive structure of bones ! A robust country 
gentleman, hunting six months of the year, and 
passing the other six months in fishing or playing 
games ! 

Raymonde quitted the window-seat, and with 
a spring placed herself in front of a large mirror 
framed in baguettes with tarnished gilding. The 
mirror was surmounted by a panel on which was 
painted a shepherd in a jacket gaily decorated 
with ribbons, playing on a pipe at the feet of a 
shepherdess in a hoop-petticoat, who listened to 
him with a languishing air. Raymonde saw the 
reflection of the upper part of her body in the 
sombre depths of the glass. The slender figure 
gracefully moulded by the corsage of her riding- 


30 


RAYMONDE. 


habit, the white and flexible neck, the elegant 
oval of her face, the child’s mouth with bright 
red lips, the brown eyes starred with points of 
gold, and the silken luxuriance of her abundant 
hair with its warm tints, were faithfully repro- 
duced. 

She had no false modesty, she knew she was 
beautiful. To think that this triumphant beauty 
must be forever shut up in the doleful pigeon- 
house of Lamargelle, which M. de Prefontaine 
dignified with the name of chdteau ! 

She raised her eyes to the shepherdess in the 
painting with an expression full of despair. This 
shepherd, playing eternally the same love-song, 
seemed to cast ironical glances at the young girl ; 
this shepherdess, gaudily adorned, regarded her 
with an air of pitiful compassion. She stamped 
her foot with spiteful emphasis, and returned to 
her seat in the window, restless, fierce, undecided, 
biting the ivy -leaves snatched from the trellis, and 
revolving in her mind what course she could take 
the next day to discourage M. de Prefontaine. 


III. 

“ Certainly, madame, Pigeau is not a perfect 
beast, and is loath to make the first pull ; but, 
once started, it is almost impossible to stop him. 


RAYMONDE. 


31 


Ha ! ha ! He resembles his master, and this is 
why Pigeau and I love each other, in spite of our 
faults.” 

M. Osmin de Prefontaine, delighted at having 
given utterance to this sally of wit, burst into a 
loud laugh that seemed to fill the drawing-room, 
where he was talking with M. and Mme. La Trem- 
blaie while waiting for dinner to be served. Os- 
min was a person of huge dimensions, with limbs 
corresponding in size. He had a stentorian voice, 
hair set close on his bull-shaped forehead, and a 
beard in the form of a fan. Although he was 
twenty-five years old, his fresh complexion, large, 
humid eyes, and excessive awkwardness gave him 
the ingenuous appearance of a youth who had 
grown beyond measure during his last year at 
college. Confidence and kindness of heart were, 
however, plainly written on his countenance, which 
had never blushed for an unworthy deed. There 
was in the whole bearing of this giant something 
that recalled the heavy and indulgent good-nature 
of the great dogs of the Pyrenees, so terrible in 
aspect and so gentle in character. His hands and 
feet were constantly in the way. He did not 
know what to do with them, and every effort he 
made to conceal only served to draw attention to 
these untoward extremities. Happening to look 
at his boots, adorned for the occasion with piqu6 
gaiters of a dazzling whiteness, he hastened to 
thrust them under the seat of the chair ; then, ill 


32 


RAYMONDE. 


at ease, in a few moments lie delivered them from 
imprisonment, and modestly crossed them one 
over the other. He repeated this operation indefi- 
nitely, varying it occasionally by casting stealthy 
glances toward the door, through which he hoped 
to see Raymonde enter. 

She made her appearance at last, half smiling 
and half serious, her figure displayed to advantage 
in a dress of soft material, and jier head surround- 
ed like an aureole with her red hair lightly crisped. 
Dinner was served ; Prefontaine took in Mme. 
Clotilde, and they passed into the dining-room, 
where through the open windows came the deli- 
cious perfume of the honeysuckle, mingled with 
the more penetrating fragrance of new-mown hay. 

Much to Mme. La Tremhlaie’s surprise, Ray- 
monde refrained from her usual exhibition of 
childish folly. Reserved, almost silent, she held 
back on her lips the witty retorts provoked on 
ordinary occasions by Osmin’s simple remarks. 
This self-imposed restraint gave a mysterious and 
piquant expression to her face, which was a new 
charm for M. Prefontaine. Two or three times 
his eyes sought hers without encountering the 
glance of derision he had learned to dread. She 
listened to a long story of the chase without in- 
terrupting him once ; and at dessert,' when Osmin 
went into ecstasies over the beauty of a basket 
of fiowers placed in the centre of the table, she 
carried her amiable mood so far as to select a 


RAYMONDS. 


33 


rose-bud and arrange it on bis coat as a bouton- 
niere. 

Mme. Clotilde could hardly believe her eyes ; 
M. La Tremblaie smiled quietly ; and Prefontaine, 
in his enchantment, drank two glasses of old Bur- 
gundy, one after the other, which produced a 
mild form of intoxication. 

After colfee, Raymonde and her mother, leav- 
ing the two men to smoke their cigars, returned 
to the drawing-room ; and in a few minutes the 
notes of the piano gently touched by the girl’s 
finger’s reached Osmin’s ears. He had succeeded 
at last in getting his limbs into a comfortable 
position, and was racking his brain to keep up a 
conversation that M. La Tremblaie allowed to drop 
every moment. Prefontaine found this evening a 
charming melody in the sound of the piano, and 
manifested his joy by beating the measure en- 
tirely out of time. If he had been more familiar 
with the music of the day, the air chosen by Ray- 
monde must have aroused strong doubts of the 
eventual success of his suit. She played a selec- 
tion from one of the fashionable operas, and if 
Osmin had understood the words he would have 
been greatly surprised. It was the air from “ La 
Grande Duchesse.” 

Dites-lni qu’on I’a remarqu^, 

Distingu6 ; 

Dites-lui qu’on le trouve aimable. . . . 


34 


RAYMONDE. 


‘‘ What beautiful music ! ” murmured Prefon- 
taine, bobbing his head up and down. “ I am not 
a good judge, but I never heard anything I liked 
so well.” 

M. La Tremblaie, who knew the opera, and 
suspected some mischievous device on the part of 
Raymonde, frowned at first ; but, seeing the ex- 
pression of simple amazement on his companion’s 
face, he smiled inwardly at his stupidity and 
bowed in token of assent. 

One by one the mocking and cajoling notes 
came floating through the air, until Osmin de 
Prefontaine was beside himself : 

Dites-lui que, s’il le voulait, 

On ne sait 

De quoi Ton serait capable. 

Osmin left his seat, threw away his cigar, and 
ventured to take a few steps toward the di-awing- 
room. At last, unable to restrain himself any 
longer, he looked at M. La Tremblaie with an eye 
so full of entreaty that his host pitied his impa- 
tience. 

“ My dear friend,” he said, “ do not trouble 
yourself to wait for me. I like music better at a 
distance. Go, I will not detain you any longer.” 

Prefontaine opened the door before he had 
finished what he was saying. He went rapidly 
toward the drawing-room, which was separated 
from the dining-room by the library ; but a man 


RAYMONDS. 


35 


six feet high and stout in proportion cannot walk 
with a light step, especially if he wears heavy 
boots made by a Lamargelle shoemaker, 

Raymonde recognized at a distance this re- 
sounding step on the inlaid floor ; she had a pre- 
sentiment of a long and disagreeable tUe-d-Ute, 
carried on between her and her colossal lover. 
Her Angers came to a sudden stop on the key- 
board, and, without paying the slightest attention 
to her mother’s effort to retain her, she escaped 
into the garden, which communicated with the 
drawing-room. 

When Osmin bashfully entered the room, the 
chords of the open piano still vibrated, but the 
musician had fled ; no one was there but Mme, 
Clotilde, stretched out in an arm-chair, turning over 
the leaves of a journal of fashion, Prefontaine’s 
face lengthened, and took on such a ludicrous ex- 
pression of disappointment that his hostess could 
not repress a smile. 

“ So I am not the one you wish to see ? ” she 
exclaimed. Then, making a sign for him to take 
a seat near her, she went on : 

“ Own that you love her dearly ! ” 

‘‘Yes, indeed!” he replied with a sigh: “I 
love her, although I know full well there is noth- 
ing desirable about me. I am poor, I cannot talk, 
and I have a ridiculous flgure.” 

“You are too modest, dear neighbor,” inter- 
rupted Mme. La Tremblaie ; “ with your name and 


36 


RAYMONDS. 


position, you should aspire to the most eligible 
match in the country. Shall I talk with you 
frankly ? Well, then, if you love Raymonde, dare 
to tell her so ; plead your own cause, and you will 
succeed. Only — ” 

‘‘Only what?” he repeated in an anxious 
voice. 

“ Who can tell ? Before the matter comes to 
a conclusion, the obstacles will perhaj)S come from 
your side and not from ours.” 

“ What obstacles ? ” exclaimed Osmin. “ Ah ! 
dear lady, you cannot tell how much I love her. 
I should be ready to root up the whole forest of 
Vivey if it rose in my path to prevent me from 
marrying Mile. Raymonde.” 

“ You will not need to root up a forest,” she 
replied, with an insinuating smile ; “ but you will 
have to take a leap over certain prejudices of fami- 
ly and birth, to which in your world an exag- 
gerated importance is usually attached, and this 
will probably be more difficult than you ima- 
gine.” 

“ What do I care for that ? ” he said, with a 
loud burst of laughter. “ Oh ! oh ! I am not so 
spoiled by my good blood as to think it a degra- 
dation to marry a girl without a particle. Besides, 
all the relation I have in the world is an old uncle, 
very indulgent in this respect, for he married his 
servant.” 

This answer appeared to put Mme. La Trem- 


RAYMONDE. 


37 


blaie much more at her ease. A smile of satisfac- 
tion passed over her face, and she resumed : 

“ In that case, my dear friend, allow me to re- 
peat that you are too reserved with Raymonde. 
Women like audacity. Have you spoken to her 
of your love ? ” 

“ Not yet ! ” he cried. “ I should not presume 
without your permission.” 

‘‘Very well! I give you full permission. De- 
clare yourself this evening, and bring matters to a 
crisis quickly ; you will have no cause to repent 
of it.” 

“ But,” murmured Osmin, frightened and a lit- 
tle shocked, “will not Mile. Raymonde consider 
such proceedings too abrupt ? I should prefer to 
have her better prepared to listen to me, and I am 
afraid she will not receive me favorably.” 

Mme. Clotilde saw that he was disturbed and 
perplexed, and, with the boldness that formed the 
key-note of her character, resolved to strike a final 
blow — destined to put an end to the hesitation of 
the honest fellow whom she wished to have for a 
son-in-law. 

“ What an indifferent lover you are ! ” she ex- 
claimed, shrugging her shoulders. She went tow- 
ard Osmin, who was walking up and down the 
room, within which the first shadows of twilight 
were creeping. “ There ! ” she continued, taking 
his arm. “ Raymonde is in the garden ; go and 
join her ; tell her what your heart dictates.” 


38 


RAYMONDE. 


She guided him to the flower-beds, where the 
petunias exhaled in the night their dove-like fra- 
grance ; and, when Prefontaine turned to reply to 
her, she had already returned to the house. 

The great fellow remained thoughtful for a 
moment, shook his shoulders, drew a long sigh 
from the depths of his breast, and passed quickly 
over the sombre greensward. He searched vainly 
in the paths leading under the clumps of moun- 
tain-ash and evergreens ; he visited the vegetable 
garden, the greenhouse, the orchard ; there was 
no one to be seen ! As he made his way over the 
walk by the river-side bordering on the wall of 
the inclosure, he saw that the small gate opening 
upon the woods was ajar. “ Good ! ” he thought ; 
“the witch has escaped into the fields.” Pushing 
the gate half open, he entered a steep and narrow 
path that led up the hill among groves of aspen 
and beam trees. 

He lighted a cigar, and walked slowly along, 
glad to find himself alone for a moment, and to 
be able to reflect at his ease on Mme. Clotilde’s 
singular advice. The good Osmin was a dull- 
brained individual, and it took a long time to get 
an idea through his head. The advice he had re- 
ceived rather chilled than encouraged him, though 
his opinions were not old-fashioned nor his prin- 
ciples rigid. His education had been of the sim- 
plest kind. He had lost his mother when very 
young ; his father, a country gentleman, passed 


RAYMONDE. 


39 


his life in hunting or at play, and abandoned him 
to the care of servants till he was ten years old. 
A village cure, to whom his education was in- 
trusted, found the greatest difficulty in rousing 
his dormant intellect. From the age of fifteen 
his manners and habits were modeled after those 
of the farmers and hunters with whom he asso- 
ciated. 

He was not at all frightened at the idea of 
choosing a wife froni a social position inferior to 
his own, and he would have married the daughter 
of a woodcutter or a coal-man without the least 
scruple, if he had taken a fancy to her : but he had 
a countryman’s instinctive distrust, and he found 
something inexpressibly equivocal and disquieting 
in the haste with which Mme. Clotilde, as it were, 
threw her daughter at his head. His future 
mother-in-law was by no means to his taste. 

For all that, when he thought of Raymonde, 
with her magnificent hair, her flexible form, and 
alluring arms, he felt himself moved from head 
to foot, his heart beat rapidly, and he was seized 
with a violent desire to possess this dazzlingly 
beautiful flower entirely to himself. 

“ After all,” he thought, ‘‘ I shall not marry 
the whole family ! When Raymonde is my wife, 
we shall live in our own home, and we shall see 
the La Tremblaies only on great festivals. Non- 
sense ! how ridiculously I talk ! It would seem, 
to hear me, that I had nothing to do but stretch 


40 


RAYMONDE. 


out my hand and lead Raymonde to my house. 
Think how elegant, attractive, and witty she is ! 
A true duchess ! What right have I to dream 
that she will look with favor upon such a clown 
as I am ! ” 

He was in the midst of these reflections when 
he hit his foot against the stump of a half -uprooted 
tree, and, raising his head, perceived that he had 
reached a large pasture scattered over with clumps 
of junipers and surrounded by woods. 

‘‘ Deuce take it ! ” he murmured, “ here I am 
at the square field, and no appearance of Ray- 
monde ! ” 

The sky swarmed with stars, and the immov- 
able borders of the forest threw out their sombre 
masses against the clearer horizon. On the left, 
toward the gorge of Vivey, the noise of a stream 
filled the air with its flute-like sounds, and its 
course was indicated by the washings of white 
linen spread out on the borders, and fluttering like 
gauze among the birch-trees with their quivering 
foliage. 

Osmin’s eyes searched in vain the gray extent 
of waste land. Suddenly, however, he uttered an 
exclamation of surprise, and stopped short, while a 
slight shudder ran through his whole frame. Not 
far away, near the point where the white linen 
first touched the greensward, a red glimmer danced 
behind the junipers, and a slender human sil- 
houette, rising in black from the red background. 


RAYMONDE. 


41 


tossed back and forth its bead, crowned with small 
phosphorescent stars. 

Osmin, superstitions as a German peasant, 
thought at first of the FoUetot^ the hobgoblin of 
the Langrois mountain, and could not repress an 
instinctive movement of terror. He was a brave 
man, however, and, quickly recovering his self- 
possession, advanced with a deliberate step toward 
the mysterious light. Before he had crossed the 
path, the barking of a dog relieved his fears of 
the presence of a supernatural visitor. At the 
same time, the strange silhouette crowned with 
stars approached him, and he recognized Ray- 
monde. The coquette had managed to imprison 
a dozen glow-worms in her hair, which still con- 
tinued to throw out their greenish light among 
the silky waves of her abundant locks. 

“ I will bet I frightened you,” she called out, 
with a smile on her lips. 

“Frightened? no,” he replied, “ but confused. 
You are beautiful as a fairy.” 

“ Come,” she continued, “ I was just going to 
have my fortune told. Do you believe in fortune- 
tellers, M. de Prefontaine ? ” 

She led him, more amazed than ever, to a 
herdsman’s fire, near which a poor and haggard 
peasant was standing, wrapped in a goat-skin 
mantle. Osmin recognized the shepherd of Vivey. 

“ Ha ! it is Trinquesse,” said he, smiling in 
his turn. “ Good evening, old man ! Have not 


42 


RAYMONDE. 


the judges of Langres given you a distaste for the 
business of fortune-telling ? ” 

The shepherd raised his broad-brimmed felt hat, 
and, imposing silence upon his dog : 

“ The judges cannot change the order of Nature, 
M. de Prefontaine,” he replied, while his wrinkled 
face was distorted by a smile, and his small, ma- 
lignant eyes hurled glances of malicious hatred 
upon the young man. “ They cannot prevent the 
lines from crossing in the hollow of the hand, nor 
the stars from coming into conjunction in the 
heavens. And, if there is a correspondence be- 
tween the celestial signs and the signs in the 
hand, what can the judges do ? Answer me, you 
who are a gentleman and a man of science ! I 
tell you the signs are dumb or intelligible accord- 
ing as one has the gift to comprehend them, and 
he who possesses the gift knows many things that 
the judges will never know. Ha ! ha ! I have re- 
vealed to more persons than one the secret thoughts 
that they believed were locked up within the in- 
nermost recesses of their hearts ! ” 

“ The fact is,” added Raymonde, Trinquesse 
has told me things that have upset me entirely. 
It is your turn now, M. de Pr4fontaine ; give him 
your hand.” 

“ Willingly,” he answered, kneeling down on 
the grass. “ Here is my hand, and the piece of 
silver with it. Tell me if I shall have what I de- 
sii’e ? ” 


RAYMONDE. 


43 


The shepherd threw a handful of twigs upon 
the fire, which quickly brightened up, and, taking 
Osmin’s great palm in his, studied it carefully by 
the light of the blaze. Raymonde sat down on 
a stone, resting her forehead upon her hands. Not 
a sound broke the stillness around them, save the 
murmur of the distant stream, and occasionally 
the tremulous voice of a sheep, which, awake in a 
neighboring fold, gave utterance to a plaintive 
bleat. 

‘‘Bless me!” began Trinquesse, “here is a 
ring-finger which will never wear a marriage- 
ring, and this cross on the Mount of Saturn an- 
nounces vexations in love. You will never marry, 
M. de Prefontaine.” 

“ AYhat did you say ? ” growled Osmin, much 
displeased at such a commencement. 

“ There is no need of being angry,” continued 
the shepherd ; “ you will be just as happy. Your 
line of life is well defined. Healthy and ruddy, 
you will live many years, in good-humor with 
every one around you, have a good table and a 
good fire — ” 

Raymonde burst out laughing. 

“ The pest ! ” said Osmin, mortified at the girl’s 
ridicule and the inglorious horoscope cast by Trin- 
quesse. “You know nothing about it, you old 
dog, and I am a fool for listening to your non- 
sense. It is late. Mile. Raymonde ; shall we leave 
the old man to take care of his sheep ? ” 


44 


RAYMONDE. 


Raymonde made a sign of acquiescence, and 
they took leave of Trinquesse. The girl, grace- 
fully raising her long skirts that were di'agging 
in the dew, walked with a light and springing 
step, wrapping tightly around her waist a small 
woolen shawl, and holding up her head scintillat- 
ing with glow-worms. Osmin walked silently by 
her side, with a disconcerted air, chewing a sprig 
of sage plucked from the grass during the con- 
sultation with the shepherd. The fortune-teller’s 
ill-omened prognostic had disturbed the studied 
arrangement of the proposal he intended to ad- 
dress to Raymonde, and he did not know how to 
begin. To complete his perplexity, the moon rose 
above the woods and poured a flood of light over 
the whole extent of the square field, where the 
chirping of the crickets seemed to Osmin like 
shrill bursts of laughter. 

‘‘ This brilliant light will never do,” he thought; 
“I will speak when we reach the shade of the 
trees.” 

As to Raymonde, reassured by her lover’s re- 
serve, she regained her usual assurance. 

‘‘ You are silent,” she said to Osmin ; “ on the 
contrary, the moon puts me into high spirits. My 
nurse’s old songs all come back to me when I am 
in the fields at night, and I must sing.” 

Swayed by the impulse of the moment, she 
commenced a rustic ballad in rich and melodious 
tones, which slightly revived Prefontaine’s cour- 


RAYMONDE. 


45 


age ; and finally all his hesitation disappeared as 
the exciting words filled the sonorous air. It was 
indeed the song of the siren, and Osmin would 
have followed to the end of the world the charmer 
whose sarcastic and enticing voice found expres- 
sion in these four lines : 

“ L’amour, I’amour qa’on aimo tant, 

Est comme une montagne haute ; 

On la monte tout en chantant, 

On pleure en descendant la c6te.” 

They also were descending the hill leading to 
the garden-gate. The end of the walk drew nearer 
at every step, and Osmin’s chance for making a 
declaration that evening diminished in the same 
proportion. 

‘‘Isn’t that a lovely song?” murmured the 
singer, raising toward her colossal companion her 
head with its disheveled tresses, where the glow- 
worms threw out only a faint lustre, but where in 
revenge two bewitching eyes sparkled in the moon- 
light. 

Osmin could not resist that glance. He turned 
suddenly, and, leaning against a wild pear-tree 
that had thrust itself into the middle of the path, 
said, in a voice stifled by emotion : 

“ Raymonde, I love you very much ! and, in 
spite of all that old fool of a shepherd has said, 
I believe there is in me the stuff for making a 
good husband. Would it be very disagreeable to 
you to be called Mme. de Prefontaine ? ” 


46 


RAYMONDS. 


She drew back, visibly disconcerted by the 
abrupt declaration, cast down her eyes, and 
i:)eeped through their long lashes at the anxious 
visage of the huge fellow who barred the passage, 
and whose face was illuminated by a ray of moon- 
light ; then she bit her lips and tried to think of 
some way of escape. The thicket was, however, 
impenetrable on each side, and Osmin held pos- 
session .of the whole width of the path. She 
must reply, and not one word could she utter. 

“ You are silent,” he said ; has my brusque- 
ness frightened you ? ” 

“A little,” she replied, trying to make a joke 
of it. “ It is the first time I have been honored 
with such a proposal, and I am struck dumb with 
astonishment.” 

“ I went the wrong way to work. I ought to 
have told you at first that your mother knew my 
wishes and gave me permission to propose to you.” 

As she remained silent, he went on : 

“ I own that it was bold on my part. I am 
not a brilliant match for any one, and I have a 
very humble estimate of my personal advan- 
tages.” 

This honest avowal merited at least a pleas- 
ant word. Raymonde felt it, and nothing came 
to her lips but a sulky pout, which neverthe- 
less was very becoming. She twisted and un- 
twisted the ends of her woolen shawl around her 
hands. 


RAYMONDE. 


47 


I am awkward and disagreeable,” said Os- 
min, disappointed that she made no reply. 

I do not say so ! ” she exclaimed at last after 
a great effort ; “ but — but I have never thought 
of marriage. It always seemed to me that there 
would be time enough to think of it when I was 
older.” 

“ Fifty years old, for instance,” he said, with 
a loud laugh. 

No, but in a couple of years at the earliest. 
After all, I am scarcely eighteen years old ! ” 

Do not be uneasy ! ” he murmured, in a 
melancholy tone. “ I do not wish to hold the 
pistol to your head. I will give you time. Only 
assure me that you will try to accustom yourself 
to the idea of being my wife, however astonish- 
ing it may seem to you at first.” 

She looked at him again through her long eye- 
lashes, and seeing him with his back still squarely 
braced against the tree, evidently resolved not to 
move an inch before receiving an answer, she ut- 
tered a sigh. 

“ Then if I consent to try,” she said, in an in- 
sinuating tone, “ you will give me time to reflect 
before making up my mind ? ” 

‘‘ I promise you.” 

And afterward,” she went on, with a provok- 
ing smile, “ if, after having tried my best, I can- 
not decide ? ” 

Osmin hung down his head without replying. 


48 


RAYMONDE. 


1 


“ You would not fail,” she exclaimed, “to pro- 
claim it upon the house-tops, and to treat me as a 
heartless coquette ! ” 

“ No,” he said, raising his head bravely ; “ I 
should curse my had luck and go far away, lov- 
ing and esteeming you forever.” 

Osmin’s eyes were full of tears. Raymonde 
seemed touched and impatient at the same time ; 
she struck the ground nervously with the heels of 
her hoots. 

“ I tire you,” said Prefontaine, pitifully; “ you 
would he glad to get rid of me ? ” 

“ No ; only it is late, and they will he anxious 
about me at home.” 

“ Pardon me for having chosen so unpropi- 
tious a time. But I suffered too much to he si- 
lent. Indeed, I have really grown thin ! ” 

She smiled, and glanced at the giant’s broad 
shoulders with a malicious expression that seemed 
to say, “ There is no appearance of it ! ” 

“ I had not the courage to wait till to-mor- 
row,” he continued ; “ I wished to know my sen- 
tence this evening. But, after all, I do not know 
it ; I cannot tell yet whether you love me a little 
or whether you hate me.” 

“ I certainly do not hate you,” she replied, 
without much enthusiasm. Her embarrassment 
redoubled. Osmin took a step forward and seized 
the girl’s fingers in his strong hand. 

“ Tell me — yes or no,” he whispered. 


RAYMONDE. 


49 


Feeling her fingers imprisoned in the grasp of 
the sentimental Prefontaine, she looked around 
hopelessly to the right and left. Uncertain of 
what might come next, angry and excited, she 
muttered, hastily : 

“ Well — yes, yes ! ” 

Then, taking advantage of Osmin’s movement 
toward her, and the small space left free between 
the tree and the copse, she glided from his fingers 
like a lizard, quickly descended to the bottom of 
the hill, and seized in great haste the handle of 
the little gate. Sure of a safe retreat, she felt 
some remorse for her cruelty, and, before disap- 
pearing, she cried, in thrilling tones, “ I will try. 
Farewell until to-morrow.” 

And the gate was closed. 


IV. 

« Better,” says the Book of Proverbs, is a 
dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox 
and hatred therewith.” 

Osmin did not agree with King Solomon ; for, 
although Raymonde gave .little encouragement to 
his advances, he looked upon her evasive answers 
as a positive engagement. Sure of the support 
of Mme. Clotilde and M. La Tremblaie, he re- 
garded himself as an accepted lover, and paid his 
4 


50 


RAYMONDE. 


court accordingly. Raymonde, partly from obe- 
dience and partly from want of occupation, re- 
ceived bis homage in a passive way that did not 
amount to actual discouragement. 

A girl, living in an out-of-the-way village, 
where admirers do not grow precisely like mush- 
rooms, always finds a secret pleasure in feeling 
herself admired, even by a man with whom she is 
not in love. At eighteen she falls in love with 
love, for want of a lover, and deceives her heart as 
she deceives her hunger, by false pretenses. Ray- 
monde amused herself by inhaling the agreeable 
fragrance emanating from a sincerely-devoted 
heart. If the vase was rough and unornamented, 
the perfume was none the less acceptable, and her 
delicate rose-colored nostrils did not disdain to 
breathe it occasionally. She received Osmin’s 
tender attentions with the benevolent air of a 
queen who believes herself entitled to universal 
homage, without suspecting that her smiles were 
considered by Prefontaine as so many promises to 
pay which he would not fail to present at matu- 
rity. But coquettes, like money-borrowers, think 
that pay-day will never come. She had a long 
time before her ; he had promised not to hurry 
her ; and the marriage-day was so hidden in the 
distance by a misty haze that she lost sight of it 
every moment. 

Osmin, on the contrary, looked upon this 
happy epoch as a smiling white statue firmly 


RAYMONDE. 


51 


located in an avenue of evergreens, in which it 
advanced a step every day. He laid his plans in 
conformity with this idea, and had already in- 
stalled workmen at Lamargelle, so that the dull 
old dwelling might take on a more cheerful as- 
pect, and Haymonde find a fitting nest when she 
decided to dwell there. 

“ Everything will soon be ready and arranged 
to suit her,” he said one evening to Mme. Clotilde. 
“ I must now go through with an indispensable 
formality, or rather a disagreeable duty, since it 
will oblige me to he absent for some weeks. I 
have spoken to you of an old uncle who lives in 
the Morvan, about forty miles away ; I am his 
godson and his sole heir. He has, however, mar- 
ried his housekeeper, a crafty peasant woman, who 
would like to get possession of his whole property 
if I did not put a stop to it. Therefore, every 
year, I go and pass six weeks with the old man, at 
the commencement of the hunting season. He is 
fifty years old ; and, if I do not consult him about 
my marriage, very likely he will cut me off in his 
will without a franc. I am going to see him, and 
during my visit to ask his consent. On my re- 
turn I hope we can fix upon the day for the wed- 
ding.” 

Raymonde heard of the projected journey 
without manifesting any emotion. The idea of 
living for a few weeks without Osmin always at 
her side was not very insupportable. 


52 


RAYMONDE. 


On the morning of the day before his depart- 
ure she took her usual ride through the woods, 
returned in high spirits, breakfasted with a good 
appetite, and, to enjoy a siesta more at her ease, 
threw herself into a hammock swung between two 
vigorous plane-trees at the end of the garden. 

As she swayed lightly back and forth in the 
hammock, she saw, a hundred steps away, the 
stream gliding like a snake among the osiers, and 
the village houses with columns of smoke rising 
in the same direction. The cocks answered each 
other with shrill voices from one end of the street 
to the other, and the flails in the barns threshed 
the sheaves of wheat with an alternate movement. 
Higher up, on the great i^lateau commanding 
Vivey, where the undulations of the forest ceased, . - 
the skylarks sang above the stubble-flelds. The i 
girl followed with her eye their comings and go- ] 
ings. They soared in a straight line into the blue i 
ether, and were lost to sight still warbling their J 
sweet notes, then dropped from the lofty heights i 
at one stretch in the same way ; others succeeded ! 
them, while the aerial and lulling music never ‘i 
ceased. Raymonde, her eyelids half closed, and I 
her thoughts half-way to the land of dreams, en- : 
joyed with sensuous pleasure the delicious moment : 
that precedes sleep, when the reality of objects is 
effaced, and the whole atmosphere is filled with 
music and perfume. 

She heard the skylarks sing : 


RAYMONDE. 


53 


“ Osmin is going away.” 

The mill-dam replied: 

“ Ho is going to-morrow.” 

And the noonday hells seemed to add: 

“ A pleasant journey ! ” 

Then her eyes closed entirely ; everything 
faded from her sight ; she was fast asleep. 

She dreamed of a pathway stretching out for 
a great distance through a forest of beeches and 
lindens. At the extreme end Osmin was riding 
away on his piebald horse. The animal and his 
rider formed already but a single point in the dis- 
tance, and, without being concerned about them 
any longer, she amused herself with gathering a 
bouquet among the tall fox-gloves that seemed to 
stretch out their corollas like purple fingers. 
While she was making up her nosegay, a voice 
was singing in the midst of the forest, a mas- 
culine and caressing voice, strong and tender at 
the same time. She was under the charm ; the 
grass appeared more green, the perfume more 
penetrating, in proportion as this magic voice per- 
vaded the air. 

Suddenly, the gallop of the horse, again re- 
sounding, rapidly drew near, and Osmin’s laugh 
— that enormous and deafening laugh — drowned 
the voice of the unknown, and broke the enchant- 
ment. 


54 


RAYMONDE. 


A shower of rose-leaves, falling on her face 
and neck, awoke her with a start, and her eyes 
were scarcely half opened when she perceived 
Osmin standing in front of her, convulsed with 
laughter. 

“ I do not like your joking ! ” she exclaimed, 
while rubbing her heavy eyelids with the spiteful 
and yet graceful gesture of a child rudely awak- 
ened from its first sleep. “ How long have you 
been here ? ” 

‘‘ About a quarter of an hour,” he replied. 

‘‘ And you did not waken me ? ” she continued, 
in an angry tone. 

She perceived that her dress, raised by the 
motion of the hammock, disclosed her ankles, en- 
cased in blue and white striped silk stockings. 
Her anger redoubled, and, drawing her little feet 
hastily under her skirt, she said : 

“ It is treason to look at any one who is asleep ; 
it is as bad as listening at the keyhole. Why did 
you not waken me immediately ? ” 

‘‘I had not the heart to disturb you. You 
looked too beautiful in your sleep, and I was too 
happy in being able to admire you at my ease. 
Besides, you seemed to be having a charming 
dream.” 

“No,” she interrupted, “I was dreaming of 
you.” 

“ Indeed ! ” cried Osmin, too much enchanted 
with the answer to see how impertinent it was. 


RAYMONDE. 


55 


He brought a rustic seat, and sat down near 
the hammock in such a way that his head was on 
a level with Raymonde’s. 

I have just come from Langres,” he added, 
‘‘ and I could not pass by your door without com- 
ing in. Remember that I am going away to-mor- 
row, Mile. Raymonde. How slowly the weeks 
will drag along while I stay with my tedious god- 
father ! ” 

“ Was it he,” she asked, ironically, “ who gave 
you the name of Osmin ? ” 

“ No,” he replied, “ that name has been in the 
family since the third crusade. My ancestor, 
Huon de Prefontaine, being the prisoner of a Mus- 
sulman named Osmin, gained the affections of the 
infidel’s daughter by his bravery. She offered to 
assist him in making his escape, upon condition 
that he would take her with him. My ancestor 
was as pious as he was brave ; he refused flatly, 
as you may well suppose ; and the father, who 
found it out, was so much pleased that he released 
him, without ransom, on condition that the baron 
of Prefontaine, and all his heirs forever, should 
give to their oldest sons the name of this blacka- 
moor.” 

“Then, if you have a son, his name will be 
Osmin ? ” she said. 

“His name will be-whatever you please,” he 
immediately replied, his face brightening at the 
thought. 


56 


RAYMONDE. 


She turned her head away scornfully, and a 
light blush suffused her cheek. 

“ Mile. Raymonde,” continued the giant, plac- 
ing his heavy hand on the edge of the hammock, 
which began to oscillate like a pendulum, ‘‘will 
you think of me a little when I am gone ? ” She 
made no reply. “Promise at least not to think 
of any one else.” 

The girl’s face appeared again through the 
meshes of the hammock, and she looked at Osmin 
with eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“How can I tell?” she replied. ^‘Perhaps 
I shall try to captivate the guardsman or the 
schoolmaster ! This country offers so many re- 
sources ! ” 

“ That makes no difference. I shall not sleep 
in peace. You are so captivating, and I so rough 
and uninteresting. Also,” he stammered, draw- 
ing a jewel-case of garnet velvet from his pocket, 
“ I beg you as a favor to wear during my absence 
this bracelet, which I purchased for you at 
Langres.” 

She turned completely round, and looked with 
great curiosity upon the half -open jewel-case, 
which disclosed an enameled bracelet ornamented 
by a design with the words “ Think of me ” en- 
. graved in gold on the black enamel. The jewel 
had a clumsy look and was in doubtful taste. 

“ Where did you hunt that up ? ” she whispered. 

“ I hope it pleases you ! ” cried the worthy Os- 


KAYMONDE. 


57 


min ; “ permit me to put it on for you, and promise 
not to take it off.” 

Raymonde held out her arm listlessly ; he 
clasped the bracelet ; then, bending over the 
plump white arm, he touched it respectfully with 
his lips. 

“ Now,” he sighed, “ my mind will be more at 
ease when I return to Lamargelle. To-morrow 
my servant will drive me with Pigeau to Latrecey 
to take the train. We shall pass the Maison Verte 
at nine o’clock. Will you not go with me part of 
the way?” 

She consented, and he went away in a mood 
alternating between happiness and melancholy. 

The next day, when the modest equipage 
drawn by Pigeau turned the corner of the Vivey 
mill, Prefontaine saw the fluttering of a riding- 
skirt among the lindens of the Maison Verte, and 
heard the gallop of a horse. A half hour after, 
Raymonde and he were riding in company on the 
Auberive road. After passing through the town, 
they took the route that follows the course of the 
Aube, and sometimes overhangs the river per- 
pendicularly. In this place the Aube, embanked 
between wooded hills, describes sudden circuits 
through a country full of rocks and indentations. 
At the base of one of these rocky hillocks an 
abandoned forge raises the blackened framework 
of its ruined buildings, and on the level surface 
at the top of the hill an old house, low, clumsy, 


58 


KAYMONDE. 


and flanked by a square, two-storied turret, pro- 
files itself on the green background of the woods, 
in front of the road, from which it is separated 
only by the deep embankment of the river. When 
Raymonde and Osmin arrived in sight of this 
isolated dwelling, the girl looked at the forge in 
ruins and the turreted house, whose stern aspect 
made a blot upon the smiling harmony of the val- 
ley. 

“ What is that building ? ” she asked Pr4fon- 
taine. 

“ That is Le Chanois,” he answered. “ The 
owner is an eccentric man, M. Noel, who lives 
there alone like an owl in the hollow of a dead 
tree.” 

“ The nest suits the bird ! ” said Raymonde, 
scornfully. 

They rode on to the point where the Latrecey 
road branches off into the valley of the Aube, 
and then the girl took leave of her lover with a 
slight shake of the hand. 

She retraced her way at a rapid pace ; but 
W’^hen opposite Le Chanois she stopped to examine 
the ungainly habitation that had made such an 
impression on her mind. At the same time, a 
yellow dog darted into the little garden in front 
of the house and saluted Raymonde with loud 
and angry barking. 

“Ha, Vagabonde ! what is the matter with 
you ? ” cried a scolding voice from the interior of 


RAYMONDE. 


59 


the dwelling. “Will yoti never learn to hold 
your tongue ? ” 

And M. Noel, clothed in his greenish surtout, 
appeared upon the terrace. As soon as he cast 
his eyes upon the road, and saw the Amazon rid- 
ing upon her wild-looking horse, he groaned in 
his turn. 

“ Ah ! ah ! you remembered her, did you ? 
Feminine spite is more deeply rooted than nettles 
and thistles. Come into the house ! Why do 
you snarl ? The past is past, and the best way is 
to forget all about it ! ” 

Vagabonde, her hair still bristling, sent forth 
a last sharp bark toward the road, and followed 
her master into the room on the ground-floor that 
served for both study and kitchen. This room, 
with an adjoining apartment transformed into a 
library, and a bed-room fitted up in the tower, 
composed the whole habitable part of Le Chanois ; 
the rest was abandoned to the rats and bats. The 
small greenish panes of the single window, ob- 
structed by books, admitted only a faint light 
upon the dilapidated pavement, the high black- 
ened fireplace, the capacious kneading-trough, and 
the clock in its tall wooden case. From the joists 
blackened by smoke hung bunches of onions, yel- 
low ears of corn, and long festoons of dried beans 
in their open pods. The sunshine, penetrating 
through the half-open door, threw into this light 
and shade a golden beam that reached the edge 


60 


RAY MONDE. 


of the table where M. Noel was getting ready to 
prepare his vegetables. The old man had no 
domestic. He took care of his own housekeeping, 
made his own bed, and would not allow a woman 
to put her foot into his chamber. 

“These creatures,” he said, brutally, “bring 
into a house nothing but disturbance and evil- 
doing.” 

An old farmer’s wife living in the neighbor- 
hood was, however, allowed once a week to place 
upon the kneading-trough the bread and other 
provisions required. M. Noel took charge of the 
rest, and for a quarter of an hour he was now 
occupied in preparing his pot-au-feu. The pot, 
hanging from the hook, began to sing over the 
fire, and a tame raven watched the boiling of the 
water while hopping in front of the andirons, bob- 
bing his head about in the most comical manner. 

This raven was a constant source of trouble to 
Vagabonde. The dog and the bird lived on a 
footing of armed neutrality and mutual toleration, 
each trying to outwit the other by every possible 
device. Just now the raven had his eye upon a 
piece of dry bread that had fallen at M. Noel’s 
feet, to which he was drawing near with stealthy 
steps ; already he shook it in his beak with an 
evident foretaste of an appetizing meal, when the 
dog, which pretended to be asleep, sprang at a 
bound upon the crust, covered it with his fore 
paws, and then crouched down, replying with 


RAYMONDE. 


61 


low growls to the raven’s desperate blows with 
his beak. 

“ Have done with this ! ” cried M. Noel, out 
of patience. Snarling and jealous race, you 
have all the faults of your sex, and your malicious 
body is a lodging-place for the seven deadly sins. 
You detest diy bread — you will not eat it ; but 
you do not care for that, provided you can do an 
injury to some one else, you bad dog.” 

He snatched the crust from his paws, and gave 
it to the raven, which took refuge on the knead- 
ing-trough. At this very moment the door was 
pushed open by a strong hand, and M. Verdier 
appeared upon the threshold, still bright with 
sunshine. The old forester entered with a radiant 
face, as if he had brought mth him a portion of 
the brilliant sunlight that illuminated the out- 
door atmosphere. 

“Good morning, M. Noel,” he exclaimed, 
shaking a letter above his head. “ I have good 
news for you ! Our Antoine is coming home.” 

The old man replied with a joyful exclama- 
tion. 

“ Good news are rare birds,” he said, senten- 
tiously, “ especially for me ! But this makes me 
merry. I shall see him again, the big boy, al- 
ready a man having others under his control ! 
Do you know that it is seven years since I have 
set my eyes upon him ? ” 

“ Ah ! yes. Seven years is a long lease for a 


62 


RAYMONDE. 


father who has but one son. We pined for him 
at home, and, when I announced the glad tidings 
to his mother, she fainted away for joy. Ever 
since last evening she is like a hen that has lost 
her chickens, going and coming from the cellar 
to the store-room, and turning the house upside 
down to get everything in order for her Antoine.” 

“ The letter ! the letter ! ” exclaimed M. ISToel, 
out of patience with this long preamble ; “ let us 
see the style in which this learned professor 
writes ! ” 

“Here it is ! ” replied Verdier, having mean- 
while adjusted his spectacles on his large thin 
nose. 

“ My dear Father : 

“ At last I have my liberty for three months, 
and I wish to spend the whole time with you. I 
shall be at home in less than a week. I promise 
myself great pleasure in embracing you once 
more, and in seeing again my house, my woods, 
and all the good things I have missed so long. I 
dance around my room like a child at the thought 
of the journey. I am obliged to examine my 
chin and feel my beard, to make me remember 
that I am a young man with serious purposes in 
life. Seven years without seeing you, without 
breathing the air of our forest — do you know 
how hard it is ? And yet I do not regret the 
time, for it has given me the opportunity of doing 


RAYMONDE. 


63 


work that will make a man of me, and give a 
little satisfaction to you, and to you all who have 
taken so much pains with me. When I speak of 
you, I include also my dear master, M. Noel, Is 
he not one of the family ? Tell him I am coming 
home, and sound him adroitly, as well as my 
mother, to find out what I can bring from Paris 
that will please them.” 

“ Fool that I am ! ” muttered M. Verdier com- 
ing to a sudden pause ; “ I ought to have skipped 
that line. And now Antoine has lost the pleasure 
of surprising you ! ” 

“That is right!” grumbled M. Noel; “tell 
him I don’t want anything.” 

He rubbed the back of his hand over his eye- 
lids, and was indignant to find they were moist. 

“ This cursed chimney does not draw well,” he 
continued, “ and the smoke makes my eyes water ; 
does it trouble you, Verdier?” 

He turned his head and saw the dog, who had 
again stolen the crust from Master Jacques. 

“Ah ! you mean creature, you always will 
have the last word, and you have carried your 
point. They are all alike, M. Verdier ; they are 
all alike ! ” 


64 


RAYMONDS. 


V. 

“ Good morning, Bernard ; how soon shall we 
set out ? ” 

“ The deuc^ ! Young man, you are as lively as 
a green lizard,” replied the coachman, who drove 
the mail-stage from Langres to Auherive. “ The 
clock of Saint-Mammes has just struck five, and I 
shall not stir until six. But,” he added, thrusting 
his red face out of the carriage, “ is that you, M. 
Antoine ? I said when you came hack you would 
have a beard on your chin ; but I did not recog- 
nize you at first, you have grown so strong and 
handsome ! ” 

Antoine Verdier was indeed a fine young man, 
thirty years old, with a rather slender figure, broad 
shoulders, an olive complexion, an abundant black 
beard, and a countenance on which seriousness 
and frankness were happily blended. Two feat- 
ures in his expressive face were specially note- 
worthy : his almond-shaped and downcast eyes, 
whence flashed a glance both caressing and pene- 
trating, and his high and intelligent forehead, 
indented vertically between the eyelids by three 
light wrinkles, indicating habits of reflection and 
observation. His clearly-articulated words and 
his sedate and energetic gestures, combined with 
much gentleness, gave evidence of a well-balanced 


RAYMONDE. 


65 


nature and a man who was already master of him- 
self. 

He walked back and forth for a few minutes 
in front of the public-house, where the carriage, 
to which the horses had not yet been harnessed, 
stood under the stable porch. The dawn of a 
beautiful day at the close of August began to 
light up the deserted street, and he heard the 
reveille sounding from the barracks of the citadel. 

I am going ahead a little way,” said Antoine 
to the coachman, “and I leave the care of my 
baggage to you, Bernard. You will overtake me 
at the hill of Pierrefontaine.” 

He passed through the sleeping town, de- 
scended the mountain by a steep path that led to 
the Noidant road, and followed with a light step 
the route covered with grass and dripping with 
dew. It was easy to see how happy he was by 
the way he walked and flourished his cane. He 
looked with a smiling face upon the pearl-colored 
sky, in which the sun had not yet appeared, and 
watched the waning moon grow pale as the da^wn 
brightened. He listened to the waking notes of 
the skylarks, and remembered how many times, 
when he was in school at Langres, he had passed 
over this same road on Saturday evenings, when 
he had obtained permission to spend Sunday at 
home. The farm-houses scattered among the har- 
vested fields, the huts of the road laborers, the 
small hamlets with flat stone roofs, defiled before 
5 


66 


KAYMONDE. 


him like old friends with benevolent faces. He 
was on his way home, and the joy of the return, 
united with the charm of the clear morning, took 
possession of his senses more and more at every 
step. When he had passed Perrogney, and saw 
in the bright sunshine the greea masses of the 
forest stretching out before him, his heart leaped 
for joy, and tears came to his eyes. 

‘‘ Plague on Bernard ! ” he exclaimed ; “ I 
should be a simpleton to wait for him, and to 
shut myself up in his coach when I can walk 
through the woods to Auberive with perfect 
ease.” 

Instead of descending toward Pierrefontain^ 
he took the old Roman road, and reached the 
verge of the forest in a few minutes. An ancient 
Celtic tumulus, called the Feu de la Motte, still 
remains on this spot, and here he rested a moment 
before continuing his walk. At his feet, in a hol- 
low of the ravine, the source of the Anjou gave 
utterance to its babbling voice, and in the distance 
all the cocks of the Crilley farm made themselves 
hoarse in their efforts to outdo each other. 

How many times, in vacation, Antoine had 
found a seat in the tall grass of the tumulus, and 
forgotten everything else while absorbed in read- 
ing an old volume full of the history of celebrated 
men ! Sometimes he paused at the bottom of the 
page, and, his imagination excited by what he 
had read, listened until it seemed to him that the 


RAYMONDE. 


67 


fairies of the forest waked up around the old Celtic 
hillock to predict a triumphant destiny for him. 
The springing green branches of the beech-trees, 
swaying over his brow, seemed to murmur mute- 
ly, “You also — you will have a glorious fu- 
ture ! ” 

Glory ! he had not yet come into possession of 
it, for reputation comes slowly in the career he 
had chosen. His path was, however, plainly 
marked out ; the brushwood and the quagmires 
were now behind him. His first discoveries had 
already attracted attention ; the accuracy of his 
botanical observations increased his reputation, 
while his highest endowment, the gift of intui- 
tion, that transforms a scientific man into an in- 
ventor and almost into a poet, held out the pros- 
pect of higher honors for the future. 

Meantime he was young ; he had in reserve a 
long succession of fruitful years. His heart over- 
flowed with feelings of gratitude. In a few mo- 
ments he would kiss piously the soil of the forest, 
his native soil, which for many centuries had 
nourished the obscure generations of peasants 
from whom he had sprung. 

He heard the shrill tones of the clock in Per- 
rogney striking nine. 

“ Selfish fellow ! ” he thought ; “ while you 
amuse yourself in dreaming, your good mother is 
counting the minutes. Bernard will arrive with- 
out you, and the whole family is anxiously watch- 


68 


RAYMONDS. 


ing for your appearance. Come, start as soon as 
possible.” 

He seized his cane, ran down to the base of 
the tumulus, and walked under the trees at a 
rapid pace. He had traversed a good quarter of 
the forest, when, in passing obliquely over a cross- 
road, he perceived a thick cloud of smoke in the 
most distant part of a forest-path lying in a diag- 
onal direction. He even discerned the vague form 
of a man or woman making signals. 

“ What is burning out there ? ” he exclaimed, 
rushing at the same time impulsively toward the 
spot, when the words “ Here ! this way ! Help ! ” 
uttered in loud tones, and evidently intended for 
his ears, made him redouble his steps. 

Objects became more clear as he advanced. 
He soon distinguished a team standing in the 
midst of the path ; a boy, fifteen years old, was i 
rushing in headlong haste from the wagon to the \ 
steep bank of the road, dipping water there in his 
felt hat, climbing on one of the wheels, emptying ; 
his improvised bucket on the smoking mass, and 
then repeating the same process as fast as possible. 

On the border of the declivity a small horse, with 
the bridle hanging loose from his neck, browsed 
unceremoniously upon the shoots of the beech- 1 
trees ; and in the middle of the road a young girl ; 
with bright-red hair, lifting with one hand the A, 
skirt of her riding-di*ess, waved the other in the j 
air to urge Antoine to make haste. y 


TvAYMONDE. 


69 


“ Come quick, monsieur ! ” she called out when 
he was within hearing distance ; “ this boy has 
lost his wits, and his load of charcoal will burn 
up if we do not help him.” 

Indeed, the dull crackling of a fire ready to 
burst forth was plainly heard from every part of 
the cart, full to the edge. The charcoal had 
doubtless been taken from the pit before the fire 
was entirely extinguished, and, once on the road, 
the current of air had rekindled it. The girl had 
been attracted by the smoke and the outcry of 
the driver, who tore his hair, knowing no longer 
to what saint to make his vows. 

“ I advised him,” she said, “ to go to the spring 
and dip water from it in his hat.” 

“ Unfortunately,” replied Antoine, looking 
•with surprise at the pretty speaker, who was no 
other than Mile. La Tremblaie, ‘‘ these few drops 
of water will only serve as nourishment for the 
combustion ; it will be necessary to throw out a 
part of the charcoal and spread moistened earth 
over the rest. — Is the charcoal-pit far from here ? ” 
he asked the distracted driver. 

“ A good half-hour, monsieur.” 

“Run as fast as you can, and let the coal- 
burners know of the accident ; tell them to bring 
a bucket, a shovel, and a pickaxe. Meanwhile I 
will pour water on the cart.” 

“ Mount my horse,” cried Raymonde ; “ you 
will go quicker.” 


70 


RAYMONDE. 


The boy did not wait to be invited the second 
time ; he held out his wet hat to Antoine, mount- 
ed on the back of the horse, and started off in the 
direction of the pit. 

“ Can I be of any help to you ? ” said Ray- 
monde when she was left alone with Antoine by 
the side of the crackling wagon. 

“ If you are not afraid of spoiling your dress,” 
he replied, “ you can fill this fellow’s hat at the 
spring, and hand it to me as I stand on one of 
the wheels. But it will be disagreeable and fa- 
tiguing work, mademoiselle.” 

“ I am not a fine lady ! ” she said, smiling. 

She turned up her riding-dress, tied it behind, 
tossed her hat upon a clump of dogwood-trees, 
and began diligently tn dip the water. As soon 
as the hat was full, she got up and gave it to An- 
toine, who, leaning against the wagon, rapidly 
poured the contents on the smoking charcoal. 

Their attention was not so completely absorbed 
by the work as to prevent them from stealthily 
examining each other. Raymonde glanced out of 
the corner of her eye at the elegant bearing and 
expressive face of the young traveler, balanced 
on the nave of the wheel, his head in full light 
and his hair in a cloud of smoke played upon by 
the breeze. 

As for Antoine, he ^ould not help admiring 
the girl’s graceful pose as she held out to him the 
streaming felt hat, and displayed at the same 


RAYMONDE. 


71 


time her beautiful bare arms. The upper part of 
her body being thrown back showed to advan- 
tage the harmonious and flexible outlines of her 
bust, the serpentine curve of her white neck, and 
the satin carnation of her cheeks, suffused with a 
delicate rose-tint by the excitement of the novel 
situation. The sun, filtering through the trees, 
threw a changing play of light and shade over 
her hair and face, that increased the fascination 
of her large brown eyes. The work, to which 
she was not accustomed, put her out of breath, 
and this, with her entire unconsciousness, increased 
the vividness and brilliant coloring of the picture, 
which impressed itself indelibly on the young 
man’s fancy. 

“ You must rest, mademoiselle ; I will go and 
draw the water,” said Antoine, touched with her 
good-will, and feeling as if it were a crime to con- 
demn a charming person like her to such hard 
work. 

“ No, no,” she replied ; “ I assure you I am 
not tired.” 

“I beg you to rest a while,” he repeated, 
jumping to the ground and taking the hat from 
her hands. 

The young man’s eyes had an expression of 
determination that impressed Raymonde. She 
bit her lips. 

“ You think I am too awkward ! ” she said, in 
an angry tone. 


72 


RAYMOXDE. 


He repented his brusque words, and the seri- 
ous expression ^of his face became suddenly almost 
caressing. 

“ On the contrary,” he replied, smiling, “ I ad- 
mire you ; but you have worked enough. Besides, 
the coal-burners must soon be here.” 

A few minutes after, in truth, the trot of the 
little Breton horse was heard in a neighboring 
pathway, and the coal-burners, all out of breath, 
soon made their appearance on the scene of action. 
They brought with them the necessary tools, and 
went to work immediately. Antoine, inipatient 
to reach his home, took leave of them after being 
assured that his assistance was no longer needed ; 
while Raymonde, running to her horse, adroitly 
readjusted the saddle. 

What a perspiration you are in, my poor 
Jannie,” she said to the animal, patting him with 
her hand ; “ I must let you take breath, and I can 
go on foot part of the way.” 

She gave a few light touches to her hair, which 
was flying in all directions, put on her hat, and 
rejoined Antoine, while the horse followed her 
like a dog. They walked rapidly to the place 
where four paths cross each other in the form of 
a star. Raymonde looked to the right and left in 
an undecided way. 

“ I am not familiar with this spot,” she said ; 
‘‘ where are we ? ” 

“At the cross-road of La Tillaye,” he replied, 


RAYMONDE. 


73 


“ and this is the path that leads to — Are you 
going to Auherive, mademoiselle ? ” 

“No, to Vivey. I live at the Maison Verte.” 

“ In that case, be kind enough to follow me ; 
at the end of the forest-path you will see the road 
to Vivey. The Maison Verte is then inhabited ? 
You must find this country a little wild ? ” 

“ I like anything that is wild. Besides, after 
having been immured for six years within the 
walls of dull boarding-schools, it is delightful to 
breathe the free air. At home, they allow me to 
do as I please, and I improve the opportunity as 
you see. I am in love with the forest.” 

“ It . is so beautiful ! ” said Antoine, growing 
animated. “ There are many lovely spots in our 
woods that resemble a garden — this one, for ex- 
ample.” 

They had penetrated into a shady walk, in- 
closed between verdant slopes, planted with lin- 
dens and watered by springs flowing with a gentle 
murmur under the thick grass of the ditches. 
The shade and abundance of water had developed 
a luxuriant vegetation. Meadowsweet and tall 
master- wort grew in abundance by the side of the 
path ; the slender stems of the foxglove threw 
here and there a purple tint in the midst of this 
confusion of gray umbels and pale aigrettes, over 
which large yellow butterflies flitted in the sun- 
beams. 

Raymonde examined these details attentively, 


74 


RAYMONDE. 


and her bright eyes gave expression to both pleas- 
ure and surprise. She had never been in this part 
of the forest, and yet there was something strange- 
ly familiar about the landscape. It seemed as if 
she had seen somewhere these lindens with their 
tall and slender trunks, these beaten tracks trick- 
ling with moisture, and this purple foxglove. She 
stopped involuntarily,. while Antoine, more impa- 
tient as he approached his home, continued to 
walk on. He turned round abruptly and saw her 
standing still in the middle of the road. 

“ Do I walk too fast for you, mademoiselle ? ” 
he asked. Excuse me. Auberive is the village 
where I was born, my father and mother live there, 
and I am going home for the first time in seven 
years to pass my vacation.” 

“Oh ! ” she cried, hastening to join him ; “I 
have hindered you. Are they expecting you ? ” 

“ They are expecting me without knowing ex- 
actly when I am coming. I announced my return 
without fixing the day, for I wished to surprise 
them ; but I am sure that the house is already 
turned upside down, and that every morning my 
father and mother are on the watch for the mail- 
coach, saying to each other : ‘ He will surely be 
here to-day ! ’ If the coach, which I left behind, 
should arrive before me, then farewell to all hopes 
of a surprise ! ” 

Antoine’s eyes were bright with impatient ex- 
pectation. Raymonde examined her companion 


RAYMOXDE. 


75 


with increasing interest, and compared mentally, 
not without a vague melancholy, the reception 
prepared for this son so ardently anticipated with 
the almost cold reception her mother had given 
her on her return from boarding-school. She en- 
vied the happiness of the household where the 
child and the parents seemed to be so closely unit- 
ed. The words that fell from the young man’s 
lips were sufficient to give her a glimpse of a home 
serenely happy and almost patriarchal. 

“ I am very much troubled,” she said, ‘‘ to have 
made you lose a whole hour.” 

In raising her head, she encountered Antoine’s 
eyes intently fixed upon her, and she was greatly 
disturbed. The young man’s searching glances 
seemed to pierce to the bottom of her heart. 
Raymonde’s long eyelashes met together as sud- 
denly as the wings of a butterfly close, and she 
was much disconcerted. No glance had ever 
troubled her in this way before, and yet there was 
nothing offensive in the look ; it was rather atten- 
tive and indulgent, but as if it had penetrated tri- 
umphantly into the depths of the soul. For the 
first time she felt herself in the presence of char- 
acter and will. 

‘‘ I do not regret the loss of this hour,” replied 
Antoine courteously, in a tone both grave and 
gentle. 

She did not seem displeased with the answer, 
but remained silent and hastened her steps. From 


76 


RAYMONDE. 


time to time she snatched in an absent-minded 
way handfuls of grass, and held them out to Jan- 
nie, who munched them greedily. Suddenly she 
glanced at one of her arms and stoj^ped, while her 
face slightly lengthened. 

“ Ah ! ” she exclaimed, “ I have lost my brace- 
let ! ” 

The young man’s brow contracted at the pros- 
pect of a new delay. Raymonde, hesitating, had 
already gone back a few steps ; she divined rather 
than perceived the frown, and immediately, with 
an indifferent and irritated movement of the head, 
as if she were replying to some mysterious scru- 
ple — 

“ Bah ! more’s the pity ! ” she murmured. 
“ Besides,” she added, resuming her place at An- 
toine’s side, “ it was not pretty, and the loss is of 
little consequence.” 

Her companion, seeing her so easily consoled, 
did not insist upon helping in the search for it, 
and they went on at a rapid pace. In a few min- 
utes they reached the end of the forest-path, and 
saw stretching out at their feet the valley of Au- 
berive, with its wooded hills, the bridge like an 
ass’s back thrown over the Aube, and the white 
road winding half-way up the hill 

“ This is my native land,” said Antoine, in a 
voice full of emotion. 

“ And these are probably your friends on the 
look-out for you,” continued Raymonde, pointing 


RAYMONDE. 


77 


to two persons who were leaning against the para- 
pet of the bridge. 

They had seen the young man and were wav- 
ing their caps in the joy of their hearts, while a 
yellow dog gamboled around them, barking with 
all her might. 

“ Heaven pardon me, these are my foresters of 
the Spring Valley ! ” said the girl. 

“ It is my father with my old master,” replied 
Antoine, his heart leaping for joy. 

“ In that case I must leave you, for I am not 
one of their friends.” 

She held out her hand gently to the young 
man, who looked at her in perfect amazement. 

Adieu, monsieur ; do not keep them wait- 
ing. A pleasant vacation and many thanks ! ” 

She mounted lightly on Jannie, and started 
off toward Vivey at a full trot. 


VI. 

“ An ! my boy, is it indeed you ? is it you ? ” 
Soeurette Verdier had rushed to the front 
yard, thrown her arms around Antoine’s neck, 
and eovered him with kisses that the young man 
returned with all his heart. After this first out- 
burst of tenderness she drew back a little, in order 
to take a long look at her only child, whom she 
had not seen for seven years. 


78 


RAYMONDE. 


“After all,” she said, “they have not quite 
swallowed you up ; you have even gained in 
stoutness and strength. Only see how your 
heard has grown, and what a manly air you have ! 
Ah ! my poor little dear, if you could know how 
long the time was while you were in Paris ! ” 

She threw herself again 'upon his neck, weep- 
ing. 

“Come, Soeurette,” said Verdier, in a stern 
voice, “ be reasonable ; this is not the time for 
crying.” 

But, even while reproving his wife, he could 
scarcely refrain from tears himself. He bit his 
mustache, winked his eyes, and turned to M. Noel, 
who regarded the affecting scene with an aspect 
of stern rebuke. 

“ These women ! ” he said to the old professor, 
while passing his hand over the back of his moist 
eyelids ; “ they always have tears in their eyes. 
What can we do with them ? ” 

Soeurette Verdier was small, neat, and pre- 
possessing ; she walked with short steps like a 
mouse, drawled out her words, and wore a peas- 
ant’s cap which discreetly framed the round face 
of a devotee, made pleasing by the light of soft 
gray eyes. Although her husband had a position 
under government, as they said in the village, 
she had preserved the simplicity, costume, and 
language of a countrywoman. If her narrow 
forehead did not announce a very keen intelli- 


RAYMONDE. 


79 


gence, she possessed quick sympathies and an 
affectionate and self-sacrificing nature. In her 
own home, maternal tenderness had invaded and 
taken possession of every cavity in her brain. 

‘‘I am sure you did not eat anything at Lan- 
gres,” she exclaimed, seizing Antoine’s arm. 
“You must he faint with hunger ! Go to your 
room now, and, while you are making your toilet, 
I will cook the dishes you like best — a good potee 
and a shoulder of mutton.” 

She conducted him with a brisk step to his 
chamber, whither his luggage had already been 
carried. 

An hour after they were all reunited around 
a table covered with a spotless white cloth, on 
which smoked the local dish — the famous pot€,e of 
cabbage and bacon. M. Noel, departing from his 
usual habits in honor of his pupil, consented for 
once to breakf ast with them. It was pleasant to see 
them seated at table in the little gray hall, with 
its one window opening upon the garden. An- 
toine, ravenously hungry from his long walk, and 
happy in being once more at home, replied to the 
questions showered upon him from all quarters 
with perfect good-humor, while at the same time 
doing full justice to the viands set before him. 
Soeurette, in all her comings and goings, did not 
once take her eyes from him ; Verdier and M. 
Noel did nothing else but look at him and ask 
him questions ; and the dog went from one to 


80 


RAYMONDE. 


the other, uttering discreet little harks, and snap- 
ping up a morsel here and there. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed M. Noel suddenly, going 

on with his questions, “ is P now a member 

of the Institute? He was my classmate,” he 
added, with a melancholy sigh ; ‘‘ do you know 
him ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Antoine ; “ I met him this win- 
ter at the house of the Minister of Public Instruc- 
tion.” 

“At the minister’s house ! ” exclaimed M. Ver- 
dier, his face brightening with paternal pride ; 
“ do you then go to the minister’s ? ” 

“Yes, dear father,” continued the young man ; 
“ I dine there sometimes. They do not have as 
good things to eat as we do here.” 

“ Hear him ! ” said the forester, glancing at 
Soeurette ; “ he dines at the minister’s ! What a 
fortunate fellow ! ” 

The worthy man at that moment would have 
rejoiced to see all the men in the village standing 
at the window, so that he might announce to them 
the marvelous news. 

“And of what consequence is all that ?” inter- 
rupted M. Noel, scornfully. “ I also have dined at 
a minister’s, and in my time it was at Villemain’s. 
This did not prevent me from throwing away my 
future. I hope Antoine will not become a fre- 
quenter of salons, and that he will never forget 
that science is the mistress who demands his entire 


RAYMONDE. 


81 


devotion. Salons and women are two pests for 
students.” 

Be easy, my dear master,” replied Antoine ; 
“ I have in Paris the reputation of being a savage.” 

“This did not prevent you this morning,” 
grumbled M, Noel, “from wasting your time in 
gallanting a young lady.” 

“What young lady?” asked Mme. Verdier, 
much alarmed. 

Antoine told the story of his meeting with the 
young Amazon in the forest-path. 

“ I do not even know her name,” he said, as he 
finished. 

“ It is Mile. La Tremblaie, the young lady of 
the Maison Verte,” exclaimed Verdier ; “ a giddy 
creature, who fears neither God nor the devil.” 

“ A bold-faced woman ! ” growled M. NoSl, 
who had not forgotten the blow of the whip that 
was the means of tipping over his mushrooms. 

“ I think you are severe ! ” said Antoine ; “ she 
appeared to me like a very good girl, and I am 
sure she has a kind heart.” 

“ Suppose we talk about something else,” inter- 
rupted M. Noel, in a surly tone. 

They sat around the table chatting for a long 
time. Then Soeurette took her son away under 
pretense of paying a visit to the garden. She 
wanted to have him all to herself, and was de- 
lighted to show him in detail the riches of her 
modest realm ; the poultry-yard with all its inhab- 
6 


82 


RAYMONDS. 


itants, the rough-footed pigeons, the hens with 
topknots, and the Guinea-fowls speckled with 
black and white ; the bee-garden, with six buzz- 
ing hives and borders of savory and thyme ; the 
vine-arbor, where the grapes were beginning to be 
transparent ; the plum-trees, bending under the 
weight of the long purple fruit. 

Antoine was very happy to find that the old gar- 
den looked exactly as he remembered it from his 
earliest childhood. The same knotty medlar-trees 
dipped their branches in the Aube, for the orchard 
bordered on the river. The branches of phlox and 
the hollyhocks grew in their accustomed places ; 
and in bending over a flower-border the young 
man recognized with emotion two slender green 
stems of harebell that he had brought from the 
forest fifteen years before, and which appeared 
every year in the spot to which he had transplant- 
ed it. The earth had faithfully guarded in its 
bosom the trust confided to it. Since that time 
Antoine had passed through the whirlpool of 
Pai’isian life, filled his brain with new ideas, re- 
ceived a thousand changing impressions, and all 
the while the little harebell had continued to 
bloom in this corner of the garden. • 

As an oak is riveted to the soil by the slender 
hairy filaments of the roots, so our hearts are 
attached to our homes by a thousand trivial ties, 
easily broken in themselves, but powerful in their 
number. 


RAYMONDE. 


83 


All the rest of the day was consecrated to affec- 
tionate pilgrimages to the shrines of former days. 
At night Soeurette accompanied her son to his 
chamber, helped him undress, and tucked him in 
bed as in days of yore. He was ready to fall 
asleep, while she moved softly about the room ; 
and, just as she opened the door to go out, she 
came back with an embarrassed air. 

“Antoine,” whispered she, bending over his 
pillow, “ I am sure you do not say your prayers as 
you used to.” 

He embraced her, smiling without replying. 

“ Say a short prayer, my son,” she continued, 
going away on tiptoe ; “ it will be a great pleas- 
ure for me.” 

The door closed, and the man who had won 
distinction by scientific acquirements was touched 
to the heart by his mother’s simple request. 

The next morning, while he tasted the pleas- 
ure of being slowly awakened by the sounds of 
country life, Soeurette appeared with a bowl of 
warm milk and a large bouquet of roses. She 
resumed the habits of former times, and brought 
to his bedside his first breakfast with the first 
fruits of the garden. She sat down by him, and 
began to chat, perfectly happy in seeing him once 
more. 

“ I have already looked over your linen,” she 
said ; “ it is in a bad condition. Those Paris 
washerwomen use all kinds of drugs for bleach- 


84 


KAYMONDE. 


ing. And then, what disorder ! everything is in 
fearful confusion. Do not talk to me of homes 
where there is no woman to watch over men’s af- 
fairs ! Do you know, Antoine, that you ought 
to he married now that you can take care of a 
wife ? ” 

The young man smiled. Thus far the idea of 
marriage had seldom haunted his brain. Although 
he was neither a puritan nor an anchorite, women 
had played only a secondary part in his life. Pa- 
risian pleasures had rather amused his curiosity 
than charmed his heart. The life and seductions 
of great cities presented something too refined 
and artificial for this child of the forest. 

'‘Yes,” continued Soeurette, "you must find a 
good wife, well brought up and of good princi- 
ples. Are there no such young ladies in the city 
where you are going to live ? ” 

" My good mother,” replied Antoine, " I have 
been so unsociable and shy that the young ladies 
whom I have met do not please me, and I have no 
power to please them. At eighteen they know 
everything of which they should be ignorant ; 
they are precocious and unhealthy hot-house 
plants. I must have a wife as frank and natural 
as you are — a heart inclosed like a flower in a bud, 
which will open only for me, and know how to 
love only as I shall teach it. For this reason I 
shall not be likely to marry very soon.” 

"Certainly,” exclaimed Mme. Verdier, "you 


RAYMONDE. 


85 


will never find all that in a Parisian. But there 
are women in other places besides Paris. There 
are plenty of girls well brought up and well pro- 
vided for, and not far away from us either.” 

Alchemists were right in believing that certain 
words are endowed with a kind of magic influ- 
ence ; the charm works the moment they are pro- 
nounced. If they do not effect, as in former 
times, the transmutation of metals, they modify 
at least the form of our ideas, and change their 
direction. In consequence of this conversation, 
Antoine was mysteriously led to think of the girl 
whom he met at the cross-road of La Tillaye. He 
dressed slowly, went out to take the air, and a 
secret attraction carried him toward that part of 
the forest he had traveled in company with Mile. 
La Tremblaie. When he reached the depths of 
the woods, the image of his companion of the day 
before took still more tyrannical possession of his 
thoughts. Who was this young girl, whose inde- 
pendent ways contrasted so strongly with the 
reserved habits of provincial life? Antoine re- 
membered, not without pleasure, the chaste as 
well as haughty expression of her face, her pure 
and searching eyes, her frank and genial tone of 
voice. The manners of an adventuress would not 
have such perfect naturalness and such wild grace. 
He reviewed all the details of their conversation, 
submitted them to a minute analysis, and could 
not discover a particle of affectation or boldness. 


86 


RAYMONDE. 


While thinking over these things he had passed 
the cross-road and arrived at the same spot where 
he had met Raymonde. It was easily recognized, 
for the place where the cart stood was black with 
the remains of the charcoal, and the plants around 
the spring bore the imprint of footsteps. Antoine 
knelt down, dipped his hands in the current, and 
saw something glittering at the bottom of the 
water. He plunged his hand in farther, and 
brought to the surface Raymonde’s bracelet, her 
rapid movements having without doubt unclasped 
the fastening. He examined the jewel with a cu- 
rious eye, and read these words engraved on the 
enamel : “ Think of me.” This motto and the 
symbolic flower completing the device clearly an- 
nounced the intention of the donor. 

“ Who gave her this present ? ” Antoine asked 
himself, not without a feeling of disenchantment. 
“ After all, that makes no difference to me,” he 
thought, ashamed of the absorbing interest he felt 
in the matter. ‘‘ One thing is plain : I must send 
the jewel back to Mile. La Tremblaie. To whom 
shall I trust the commission ? ” 

Prudence advised him to send it by one of his 
father’s foresters ; on the other hand, a secret 
desire, a singular curiosity, impelled him to carry 
it himself. He put the keepsake in his pocket 
while deliberating, and turned his steps in the 
dii’ection of Vivey. When from the top of the 
hill he came in sight of the Maison Verte, with 


RAYMONDE. 


87 


its avenue of lindens, green lawn, and windows 
bright with sunshine, he felt that a decision must 
be made. Just then he caught a glimpse of a girl 
of slender and graceful form, standing among the 
flower-beds with a watering-pot in her hand, and 
his hesitation vanished. He descended the hill of 
Vivey at a rapid pace, passed through the avenue 
of lindens, and did not stop until, all out of breath, 
he rang the bell at the gate. 

He did not think it proper to ask for Ray- 
monde, and, handing his card to the servant who 
opened the door, he asked her to take it to her 
master. A moment after, he was ushered into the 
library, where M. La Tremblaie was reading his 
paper, and Mme. Clotilde was embroidering a 
strip of tapestry. He made the best excuses he 
could for his morning visit, related briefly the 
circumstances of his meeting with Raymonde, and 
added : 

“Mile. La Tremblaie has doubtless told you 
that, in her eagerness to help the coal-burners, 
she had the misfortune to lose a bracelet ? ” 

“ Indeed ! ” interrupted Mme. Clotilde angrily, 
“ she took good care not to breathe a word of it. 
She is always the same reckless child ! ” 

Antoine cast a sly glance at the lady, whose 
look of assurance, low forehead, and bold and per- 
fidious smile exerted a repulsive influence, upon 
him. 

“ Do not be uneasy, madame,” he replied ; “ I 


88 


RAYMONDE. 


happened this morning to be passing through the 
cross-road of La Tillaye, and was fortunate enough 
to find your daughter’s bracelet.” 

As he took the jewel from his pocket, the door 
was thrown open with a crash, and Ravmonde, 
with her head uncovered and in her morning 
dress, rushed into the library. She uttered a cry 
of surprise and blushed deeply at the sight of the 
unexpected guest. 

Thank the gentleman who was kind enough 
to bring back your bracelet,” said Clotilde, coldly. 

“Here it is, mademoiselle,” added Antoine, 
bowing and holding out the circlet of enameled 
gold. 

She murmured her thanks in a few confused 
and almost inaudible words, not daring to raise 
her eyes ; then, with no other manifestation of 
pleasure than a slight frown, quickly put the keep- 
sake out of sight, and took a seat by her father’s 
side. 

“M. Verdier,” said his host, who had thus far 
remained silent with his eyes fixed on Antoine’s 
card, “I have often read scientific articles signed 
with your name. Is the author one of your rela- 
tives ? ” 

“I am the author,” replied the young man, 
smiling. 

This discovery produced a sudden change iu 
M. La Tremblaie’s demeanor. He had formerly 
been much interested in the physiology of plants. 


RAYMONDE. 


89 


and, laying aside his usual reserve^ he began to 
talk about his favorite study with an unaccus- 
tomed vivacity. Condemned to live for a long 
time in an atmosphere of frivolity, where his men- 
tal powers were diminishing day by day, a prey 
to a kind of moral consumption, he seemed to 
breathe a more salubrious air in the presence of 
one belonging to the world in which he once 
lived, a scientific man whose opinion was consid- 
ered an authority. It was a rare piece of good for- 
tune for this outcast, whose mind for five months 
had found no other resource than the dull and 
prosy conversation of honest Osmin de Prefon- 
taine. Antoine, perceiving the childish joy of his 
host, answered his questions graciously, and the 
conversation was briskly sustained, going from 
Goethe to Darwin, from the metamorphoses of 
plants to the theory of natural selection. 

Raymonde, delighted to see her father shaking 
off his habitual listlessness, leaned against the back 
of his chair, and, with her hands crossed, her neck 
stretched out, and her eyes wide open, listened at- 
tentively to the discussion. Oftentimes she could 
not understand it ; but the grave and sympathetic 
voice of the young man charmed her simply by 
its intonations. Besides, his explanations were 
given in language so simple and lucid, his elo- 
quence was so earnest and captivating, that his 
words seemed to have been dipped in the foun- 
tain-head of Nature itself, so deeply were they 


90 


RAYMONDE. 


impregnated with the sap and fragrance of his 
native forests. 

In the course of the conversation the young 
man spoke of the curious peculiarities of certain 
plants growing in the vicinity. 

“ Be kind enough to bring me some specimens 
on your next visit,” said M. La Tremhlaie ; “ for 
I hope that you will come to see us often now 
that you know the way to Maison Verte.” 

Mme. Clotilde, who had a violent dislike for 
all serious conversation, manifested her weariness 
by ill-suppressed yawns. 

The servant now appeared to announce that 
breakfast was served, and Antoine rose to take 
leave. 

Contrary to the hospitable custom of the coun- 
try, Mme. La Tremhlaie did not consider it incum- 
bent upon her to invite the visitor to take breakfast 
with them unceremoniously, and the timid M. La 
Tremhlaie did not dare take it upon himself to 
make amends for his wife’s impoliteness. 

Antoine had already left the library and passed 
through the vestibule, when the rustling of a dress 
made him turn his head. It was Raymonde, who 
had rushed out of the room, indignant at her moth- 
er’s inhospitality. 

“ Allow me to show you the way,” she said, 
blushing, and, as cordial as her mother had been 
disagreeable, she made him take the longest path, 
stopping at every step to show him a flower, or 


RAYMONDE. 


91 


ask the name of a shrub. When they were near the 
gate, she said, with a pleasant smile on her face : 

“I hope, M. Verdier, you will prove that men 
of science have memories, and will bring the plants 
you promised to my father.” 

She smiled again, bowed, and left him under 
the charm of her parting glance. 

He returned slowly through the woods, revolv- 
ing in his mind the incidents of the morning, and 
thinking more than he ought of Raymonde’s in- 
teresting face. His impressions were too confused 
to be analyzed, but they buzzed gently in his brain 
like bees ready to swarm, which whirl about in 
the air, uncertain of the place they will choose to 
construct their hive and distill their honey. 

He was, however, in no hurry to fulfill his 
promise, and several days passed before he thought 
of going in search of the plants he had described 
to M. La Tremblaie. One evening he was walk- 
ing with M. Hoel on the Auberive road, talking 
over the course of study he had planned for future 
use ; the valley was undisturbed as usual, and the 
silence was broken only by the cool ripple of the 
Aube, and the distant sound of a horse’s steps 
trotting on the stony road. 

The peaceful trot suddenly changed to a furi- 
ous gallop, and, before the two pedestrians had 
time to catch a glimpse of what was coming, horse 
and rider passed like a waterspout beside them in 
a cloud of dust. They had barely time to get out 


92 


KAYMONDE. 


of the way against the hill-side. When the first 
shock of the encounter was over, and the dust 
was partially dissipated, Antoine recognized Ray- 
monde mounted on her fiery Breton horse. With- 
out slackening her headlong pace, she turned her 
expressive face toward him, bowed in a manner 
indicating a reproach as well as a recognition, and 
disappeared in a fresh cloud of dust. 

“ The silly jade ! ” exclaimed M. Noel, sneez- 
ing and wiping the dust from his green surtout ; 
“ she came upon us without even crying out, 
‘ Clear the way ! ’ A little more, and she would 
have ridden over us ! What else can be expected 
from the cursed race ? Let it serve for a lesson 
to you, my dear son Antoine ! ” 

. This address produced little effect, for the next 
afternoon Antoine went to the turfy meadows of 
the Val Clavin in search of the promised plants. 
He chose the most beautiful specimens, and ar- 
ranged a bouquet of balsams with delicate golden 
spurs, sundews, blue gentians, and all the charm- 
ing flora of the hilly and humid greensward ; 
then, passing through the woods with his sheaf of 
slender stems in their brilliant colors, he reached 
Vivey at sunset, dined at the village inn, and 
made his appearance at the Maison Verte just as 
he supposed the family had risen from the table. 
He was mistaken in his calculations, and was 
ushered into the dining-room as the dessert was 
being served. 


RAYMONDE. 


93 


“ What lovely flowers ! ” cried Raymonde, 
when Antoine entered with his bouquet. 

She went for a vase immediately, and arranged 
the flowers herself, the young man handing them 
to her one by one, and giving their names. 

Mme. Clotilde appeared during this visit, if 
not more affable, at least more polite, and even 
deigned with her own white hands to pour the 
coffee into the cup placed near Antoine. The 
young savant was not sympathetic ; she felt that 
she was in the presence of a superior man, and 
dreaded that he might make too deep an impres- 
sion on her daughter’s enthusiastic mind. Be- 
sides, whether she judged that affairs had gone 
too far with Osmin to admit of a possible rupture, 
or feared to arouse the spirit of opposition and 
revolt slumbering in the depths of Raymonde’s 
character, she deemed it imprudent to oppose 
openly the infatuation of her daughter and hus- 
band for the new-comer. She was an adept in 
dissimulation, and entertained the unwelcome 
guest with a show of cordial hospitality. 

M. La Tremblaie soon managed to engross An- 
toine, and made him discourse for a long time on 
the peculiar habits of the plants he had collected. 
From time to time Mme. Clotilde, weary of all 
this science, interrupted her husband by inter- 
spersing a few commonplace remarks in the con- 
versation. 

Raymonde became suddenly silent. While 


94 


RAYMONDE. 


listening to Antoine’s explanations, she could not 
help thinking that he was seated in the very place 
where Osmin was in the habit of stretching out 
his long limbs, and she made involuntarily a com- 
parison between the two men, which was not to 
the advantage of her absent lover. 

Why had not destiny placed first in her way 
this youth, with his low-toned voice, manly char- 
acter, and serious and enthusiastic mind? She 
would have discouraged the vulgar homage of the 
colossal Osmin, and rejected the idea of a mar- 
riage with him. Perhaps — this vague hypothesis 
made her heart beat more quickly — perhaps An- 
toine would have loved her ? She knew she was 
fascinating enough to make such a dream possible. 
A secret instinct told her that Antoine was not 
insensible to her beauty ; if it were not so, would 
he have come back after her mother’s rude recep- 
tion ? She certainly wished no harm to Osmin ; 
but why had not his horse Pigeau overturned the 
carriage, and made him sprain his foot on the 
Lamargelle road on the day when for the first 
time he had driven in the direction of the Maison 
Verte? Antoine would have had time to arrive, 
and save her from the disgrace of having engaged 
herself so foolishly. Engaged ! Was she really 
engaged ? In Osmin’s eyes, certainly ; but in her 
own eyes, how was it ? She had promised to try, 
and that was all. Alas ! she had revolved in her 
mind over and over again every word she had 


RAYMOXDE. 


95 


spoken for a month, and sought with legal in- 
genuity to lessen their import ; but a voice pro- 
tested from the depths of her conscience, and cried 
out that she had encouraged Osmin, at least by 
her silence, that she ought to have rejected his 
proposal plainly and frankly. Since she had not 
done so, she found herself bound in honor to a 
man she did not love. 

“Well, Raymonde,” cried her mother, “what 
are you dreaming about? We are waiting for 
you to go into the drawing-room.” 

She roused herself, shook her head, and has- 
tened to the adjoining room, where she prepared 
the table for the evening game. 

“Do you play hk,zique, M. Verdier?” asked 
Mme. Clotilde, who had a passion for cards, and, 
since Prefontaine’s departure, had condemned her 
husband every evening to wearisome and inter- 
minable games. 

Antoine begged to be excused. 

“I will be the victim,” said La Tremblaie. 
“ Let the young people take a walk in the garden. 
M. Verdier, I commend my collection of chrys- 
anthemums to your notice.” 

Mme. Clotilde frowned ; the plan did not 
please her. She thought for a moment of accom- 
panying Antoine and Raymonde, who were al- 
ready descending the steps leading to the garden ; 
but the passion for heziqiie overcame her maternal 
solicitude, and she returned to the card-table, 


96 


RAYMONDE. 


where M. La Tremblaie was sitting resigned to 
his fate. 

“ Who is the little old man with whom you 
were talking on the road yesterday ? ” Ray- 
monde asked Antoine, when they reached the gar- 
den. His appearance is not attractive ; does he 
live at Auherive ? ” 

“ No, he lives at Le Ch^nois.” 

“ Ah ! ” she exclaimed, he is the man with 
the yellow dog. I ought to have known him 
from the malicious look he gave me.” 

“ Do not say anything against M. Noel,” re- 
plied Antoine ; “ he is my old master, and the 
best man in the world.” 

“ I should not judge so from his face ! ” 

‘‘ His looks are against him, I confess ; but his 
rudeness is like the lichen that collects around the 
oak, existing only at the surface, and leaving the 
heart sound and healthy. M. Nogl believes him- 
self a misanthropic man, and he is only a disap- 
pointed one. It was he who sent me to Paris, 
and everything that I am I owe to him. There- 
fore I love him as a father, and have always obeyed 
him as a master.” 

A feeling of spiteful jealousy took possession 
of Raymonde’s heart while Antoine was enlarging 
upon the strength of the ties that bound him to 
M. Noel. 

‘‘ He may have, inwardly, all the good quali- 
ties imaginable,” she replied, drawing back dis- 


RAYMONDE. 


97 


dainfuUy the corners of her lips ; that is of no 
consequence ; he makes me afraid of him, and I 
am sure he detests me.” 

“ He detests all women,” said Antoine, smiling ; 
it is a question of principle with him.” 

Raymonde fixed her eyes maliciously upon her 
companion. She was upon the point of asking : 
“ Has he inoculated you with this fine principle ? ” 

The young man seemed to divine the question 
hanging upon her lips, and added : 

“ It is the only point upon which we differ in 
opinion.” 

“ Honsense 1 ” cried Raymonde ; “ this great 
hatred is probably nothing but spite. He has 
been jilted by some woman whom he loved when 
he was young.” 

“ I know nothing about it. If this were the 
case, I should not blame him. Falsehood is al- 
ways odious ; but a falsehood falling from the 
lips of a person dearly loved and implicitly trust- 
ed appears to me an unpardonable crime.” 

The lines of his face took on a severe expres- 
sion, and he spoke with an energy that frightened 
Raymonde. They walked on for a while without 
speaking a word, and then sat down in front of 
the drawing-room windows on a green bank 
adorned with thick beds of petunia. Night was 
coming on, the little wooded valley assumed more 
sombre shades, and the village sounds subsided 
one by one in the increasing obscurity. 

7 


98 


KAYMONDE. 


The only light in the sombre fa9ade of the 
Maison Verte came from the open doors of the 
drawing-room ; the only sounds that broke upon 
the stillness were the soft murmur of the stream, 
the shrill cry of a water-fowl among the rushes 
of the pond, and the indistinct voices of the two 
hhzique players as they marked theif points. An- 
toine and Raymonde watched the night fall over 
the woods with an emotion of dreamy enjoyment. 
They hardly spoke, while indefinable and peace- 
ful thoughts took possession of their souls as 
darkness took possession of the outside world 
around them. A mysterious twilight enveloped 
them, where nothing was distinct and everything 
floated in a bluish and velvety shadow. 

Raymonde threw her head back to get a bet- 
ter view of the stars that studded the sky, thus 
innocently revealing to Antoine’s admiring eyes 
the undulating outlines of her form. 

‘‘ How quickly the stars spring to life ! ” she 
murmured. ‘‘ When I was a little girl, I tried to 
count them as they rose in the heavens, but I al- 
ways went to sleep in the midst of the counting.” 

‘‘ It is the same in more important matters,” 
said Antoine, smiling. “We scarcely catch a 
glimpse of what our hearts most desire when an 
invisible hand takes us away. In the midst of 
the fete we must leave, like children who are car- 
ried off to bed before the end of the play.” 

Raymonde started. “ Did he speak the truth. 


RAYMONDE. 


99 


and was this charming hour, crowded full of en- 
joyment, the only one ? Must she forget it like a 
beautiful dream, and return forever to the com- 
monplace reality, with the pigeon-house of La- 
margelle and Prefontaine’s company in perspec- 
tive ? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” whispered Reason ; “ you are Osmin’s 
betrothed, and you have no right to dream of any 
other destiny. Let this stranger pass on his way, 
and continue to walk prosaically on your own 
monotonous road.” 

Antoine rose from his seat. “ I must go ! ” he 
said ; “ I must bid you good-by.” 

Raymonde walked a few steps toward the 
house, and then stopped. She had consulted her 
reason ; but, as almost always happens, she had 
asked advice and had not followed it. 

“ Are you going away from Auberive soon ? ” 
she murmured, with a slight tremor in her voice. 

“ No ; I shall be here more than two months 
longer.” 

“ Then you will come and see us again ? ” 

She raised her head, and for a moment, under 
the starlit sky, their eyes met with deep and search- 
ing glances. 

“ I will come,” replied Antoine, in a voice full 
of emotion. 

“ Certainly ? ” 

I promise you.” 

. He took the hand she held out to him, and 


100 


RAYMONDE. 


the two hands were clasped more warmly than 
the conventionalities of worldly politeness would 
perhaps allow. 

They parted at last, and Antoine, without say- 
ing another word, returned to the drawing-room 
to take leave of his hosts. 


VII. 

“ Are you looking for Antoine ? He has been 
gone more than an hour ; very little does he stay 
at home in these days, I can tell you ! ” 

While M. Noel, to whom these words were 
addressed, frowned and muttered between his 
teeth, Soeurette Verdier, seated in a low chair 
shelling beans, went on : 

“ The truth is, Antoine is tired of us ; no 
sooner has he swallowed the last mouthful than 
he starts off on the road to Vivey. Heaven alone 
knows at what hour he will return ! My poor 
supper is often spoiled while we are waiting, and 
oftener still Verdier and I eat alone ; for they 
manage to keep Antoine to dinner over there al- 
most every day. Once he used to pass his even- 
ings with me, but now everything is changed ! I 
knew that wicked Paris would be the death of 
my boy ! ” 

“Peace, Soeurette!” said Verdier; “you 


RAYMONDE. 


101 


always exaggerate everything ! Antoine is a 
good boy, but what can you expect ? He is 
young, and we are old ; he wants to be amused, 
and it is natural for him to go where he finds 
amusement.” 

“ Amusement ! ” said Soeurette, shaking her 
head. “Faith ! if he finds gayety there, he 
brings little of it here ; for he is more dreamy 
and knows less what he is about every time he 
comes back ! I can hardly get two words out of 
him ! Nonsense ! I am not so simple as I seem, 
and I can guess what kind of amusement he finds 
there. Bless me ! I wouldn’t say a word if he 
had taken a fancy to a modest and well-brought- 
up girl ; quite the contrary, I assure you ! But 
I fear he is madly in love with a heartless co- 
quette, and this worries me to death. Who is 
this young lady at the Maison Verte, who has be- 
witched Antoine ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” said the forester, who wished to 
appear indifferent, but was in reality as much dis- 
turbed as his wife ; “ you see everything on the 
dark side. Antoine has good judgment ; if he 
finds that the young lady is not worth caring 
for, he will turn on his heel and come back 
again.” 

“ He will come back demoralized,” snarled M. 
Noel, indignant at the forester’s apparent resigna- 
tion ; “ that is the way he will come back ! In- 
deed, Verdier, your wife has more sense than you 


102 


RAYMONDE. 


have, though she is a woman ! You make my 
blood boil. Adieu ! ” 

He went away muttering, while Soeurette 
wiped her eyes, and Yerdier turned over the 
leaves of his day-book with a business air, to con- 
ceal his feelings. He was at heart as much trou- 
bled as his wife, for Antoine was the apple of 
the eye to them both. If they indulged in a lit- 
tle fault-finding during his absence, when he re- 
turned not a reproach or criticism escaped their 
lips. However, when he came home that evening, 
Yerdier took him aside, and, putting on a careless 
air, said : 

“By the way, Antoine, do you know what 
they say about you ? I do not speak for myself, 
but the good woman will have it that you are 
tired of us. You know her ; she would like to 
have you tied to her apron-strings all the time. 
How can it be helped? Women are all alike. If 
you are wise, you will stay at home a part of the 
day to-morrow to make her feel easy.” 

Antoine understood. His heart had already 
told him more than once the same truth that 
his father timidly intimated. Inwardly he re- 
proached himself for neglecting his mother, and 
robbing her of the short days of his vacation to 
give them to another ; but each day a stronger 
attraction impelled him to take the road to Yivey. 
He was now an established guest at the Maison 
Yerte. M. La Tremblaie, delighted to have some 


RAYMONDE. 


103 


one to talk to, managed to keep him as long as 
possible, and in truth no great effort was required; 
Raymonde’s presence was sufficient. It was only 
at dusk, when returning to Auberive, that con- 
science asserted its power and reproached him in 
loud and persistent tones for neglecting his moth- 
er, and compelling her to wait so many hours for 
his return. 

Early one morning, therefore, he went to the 
kitchen to find Soeurette, who was busy rub- 
bing the andirons, and announced that he placed 
himself at her disposal for the whole day. The 
good woman almost suffocated him with the ar- 
dor of her embrace. As soon as her household 
duties were completed, she led her son to the gar- 
den, and entertained him with a minute account 
of the improvements she had made in the vegeta- 
ble beds. Antoine helped her gather pears from 
the trees shaped like a distaff, and grapes from 
the vine-arbors, just as he used to when a school- 
boy. Everything went on well till noon ; but, as 
the hour arrived when he usually started for the 
Maison Verte, Raymonde’s image glided traitor- 
ously between him and his mother. A nervous 
impatience made him realize what an engrossing 
place this girl held in his heart. He had known 
her hardly three weeks, and it seemed as if she 
had formed a part of his life for many years. No 
woman had ever produced such an impression 
upon his fancy before. Was it on account of her 


104 


RAYMONDE. 


beauty alone ? No ; he had met many women 
more regularly beautiful, and they had never 
moved him in this way. Raymonde pleased him 
because she diifered entirely from other girls. 
He admired her frank and impulsive nature, her 
ignorance of all feminine affectation, the virgin 
freshness of her mind, and the sincerity of her 
words. When Antoine’s searching glances were 
fixed on Raymonde’s clear eyes and haughty lips, 
he was convinced that those eyes and that mouth 
had never given expression to falsehood. He 
read there the chaste and proud assurance of a 
heart that had never condescended to waste its 
treasures in commonplace coquetry ; and this pu- 
rity of soul, united to an ardent and passionate 
character, exercised a powerful fascination over 
him. 

After the mid-day repast, Sceurette placed her 
chair and a basket of linen that needed mending 
under the pent-house of the garden ; then she 
began to work, chatting cheerfully all the time 
with her son, who was seated on a bench in the 
shade. She was happy beyond expression in 
being able to talk to him at her ease about domes- 
tic affairs, the village gossip, and the little details 
of the circle in which her thoughts revolved.. All 
this time Antoine followed with an anxious eye 
the progress of the shadow of the roof on the gar- 
den-beds. He calculated mentally that it would 
only take him an hour to cross the forest and 


RAYMONDE. 


105 


reach the Maison Verte. He could pass a part of 
the evening there, even if he did not start till the 
middle of the afternoon. The sun already fell 
more obliquely on the white road, whose dusty 
I track was visible as far as the verge of the woods; 
the skylarks were warbling in the fields, while 
from time to time he heard the report of a hunt- 
er’s gun or the barking of a dog. 

“ What is Raymonde doing ? ” he thought. 
“ Doubtless she is expecting me. I promised to 
dine with her at the Maison Verte.” 

And he seemed to see her walking impa- 
tiently on the sunny greensward, consulting her 
watch, and looking anxiously toward the part 
of the forest where the Auberive pathway 
opens. 

“ Antoine, you are not listening to me.” 

“ Indeed, mother, you were telling me about 
Abdon, the tinman, and Lisa, the lame girl. Well, 
did they get married ? ” 

“ That shows how much attention you pay to 
what I say ! I told you more than a quarter of 
an hour ago that Abdon’s father had refused his 
consent, and the lame girl in despair had entered 
the convent of Saint Loup. Your mind is else- 
where, my boy ! ” 

Antoine made a desperate effort to keep up 
the conversation, but his impatience increased as 
the minutes passed. The clock struck four, and 
its tones were borne slowly through the calm and 


106 


KAYMONDE. 


scorching atmosphere. The young man rose and 
walked up and down the garden. 

‘‘ I feel the need of exercise,” he said, in an 
insinuating way ; ‘‘ I have a mind to go as far as 
the woodland of Charhonni^re.” 

“In this great heat?” exclaimed Soeurette, 
whose face lengthened. 

“ Nonsense ! it is growing cooler ; and then, 
isn’t this your hour for going to church ? ” 

“ I did not intend going to-day,” replied his 
mother, with a sigh ; “ but I don’t wish to keep 
you against your will. Go, my son, if you are 
tired of staying.” 

He was already in the kitchen. 

“ Shall I wait supper for you ? ” cried Soeurette, 
desiring at least to let him understand that she 
was not deceived by his little stratagem. 

Antoine, ashamed of his hypocrisy, turned back 
abruptly, threw his arms around his mother’s neck, 
kissed her tenderly on both cheeks, and murmured: 
“Well, to tell you the truth frankly, do not wait 
for me. I am invited out to dine.” 

“ Ah ! ” said she, giving back his kisses in full 
measure, “ my poor lad, you are still very young 
for your age ! ” 

He sprang for the road, and took long strides 
to make up for lost time. He crossed the forest 
at one stretch, and in three-quarters of an hour 
came in sight of the copse overhanging Vivey ; 
but, as he was coming out of the woods, a dog 


RAYMONDE. 


107 


barked, a man started up from the foot of an oak- 
tree where he had been lying down, and Antoine 
found himself face to face with M. Noel. 

“Ah! it is you? How are you then?” ex- 
claimed the old man, examining ironically his 
pupil’s disconcerted countenance. “ It is lucky I 
meet you in a nook of the woods, for there is 
little trace of your footsteps on the road to Le 
Chanois ! ” 

“ That is true, M. Noel,” stammered Antoine. 
“ I ought to go to your house oftener, but I have 
been prevented by some calls I had to make in 
the neighborhood, and I have also received proofs 
from Paris that must be corrected.” 

“You have a new work in press then? So 
much the better ! You can tell me about it on 
the way, for I hope you are going home with 
me.” 

“Not this evening, M. Noel ; excuse me.” 

“Why not this evening?” replied the pro- 
fessor. “Do your engagements oblige you to 
quit my company ? ” 

“Yes, I am going to Vivey, and shall stay 
there all the evening. I have promised, and I 
cannot break my word.” 

“Don’t trouble yourself to make useless ex- 
planations,” exclaimed the old man, losing all con- 
trol of his temper. “ I will tell you what keeps 
you at Vivey. It is the she-devil who lives in 
that cursed house ! ” He pointed with his thin 


108 


RAYMONDE. 


fingers, trembling with anger, to the slate roofs 
of the Maison Verte, then laid his hand on An- 
toine’s arm, clasping it as if in a vise, and ex- 
claimed : “ Come away ! you were made for a 
better purpose than to become a prey to these ad- 
venturers.” 

Antoine blushed at M. Noel’s first words, but 
quickly regained his self-possession, and replied, 
smiling : 

‘‘Your hatred of women carries you too far, 
my dear master ; this girl does not deserve the 
epithets you bestow upon her, and M. La Trem- 
blaie is a worthy man.” 

“Let the father go for what he is worth,” 
rudely broke in the professor ; “ we are not speak- 
ing of him, but of his daughter, who has nearly 
bewitched you. You are simple-hearted like all 
students, and cannot comprehend the devices of 
these intriguing women. This one uses her eyes 
with marvelous power. Zounds ! They are 
brought up to this from their cradle. She flatters 
you with sweet smiles and cajoling words, and 
you allow yourself to become a victim to her 
coquettish arts. I know all about it ! ” 

“ You are mistaken ! ” replied the young man 
sharply. “Mile. La Tremblaie is precisely the 
contrary of what you say. There is not a grain of 
coquetry in her whole composition. She has grown 
up like a wild plant, with the characteristics and 
defects that belong to such a development ; she is 


RAYMONDS. 


109 


fantastic, willful, and eccentric, but she is good, 
frank, and simple-hearted.” 

“ The pest ! ” said M. Noel, in a rage ; “ you 
seem to have studied her conscientiously.” 

‘‘ Yes, she interests me ! I watch her closely, 
and discover in her treasures of simplicity and 
sensibility.” 

“ And when you have finished this analysis, so 
worthy of a savant of high purposes,” continued 
the old man, sarcastically, ‘‘ what do you intend 
to do with your subject ? ” 

“ I intend to ask her to become my wife,” re- 
plied Antoine, in a decided tone ; ‘‘ that is, if I 
find that she loves me, for thus far I cannot tell 
the state of her feelings in regard to me.” 

“ You are foolish enough to think of getting 
married ! ” exclaimed the indignant professor. 

“ Why not?” 

“ Because, unhappy child, marriage is an ob- 
stacle to all serious study. Even allowing this 
charmer to possess all the virtues with which you 
endow her, she is none the less a woman. The 
more she loves you, the more she will look upon 
science as an odious rival ; the more she will seek 
to appropriate to amusement the hours destined 
for study. The rustling of her skirts will put to 
flight your ideas, the sound of her prattle will fill 
your study, and her caresses will enervate you and 
bring down your exalted ideal. When you have 
lost all courage, strength, and authority, when 


110 


RAYMONDE. 


you are empty — listen to what I say — empty as a 
gourd from which the pulp has been removed, 
then she will reproach you for not being a great 
man ; her vanity will be wounded ; she will de- 
spise you and give you the slip. Come away, I 
tell you ; and, if you love me, do not marry that 
girl ! ” 

“My dear master,” replied the young man 
energetically, freeing himself from M. Noel’s fu- 
rious grasp, “I owe everything to you, and am 
ready to do all you ask that is reasonable and 
just ; but your ideas in regard to matrimony prove 
nothing against Mile. La Tremblaie personally. 
Give me a good reason for discontinuing my visits 
to the Maison Verte, and I will obey you unless — ” 
“ Ah ! you wish for better reasons,” cried M. 
Nogl, his face burning with excitement, and his 
eyes darting lightning glances. “ Very well ! ” 
He stopped, bit his lips, cast down suddenly 
his weary eyelids, and, becoming very pale, said : 

“Very well ! — ^No,” he added abruptly, “fol- 
low your destiny, obstinate fellow, and fall into the 
snare ! The decrees of fate cannot be changed, 
and I am a fool to mix myself up with your ad- 
ventures. Good-evening ! ” 

He whistled for his dog and plunged into the 
woods. Antoine watched for a moment the old 
man’s figure as it diminished in the distance, then 
shrugged his shoulders, and dashed down the hill 
of Vivey. As soon as he passed through the gate 


RAYMONDE. 


Ill 


of the Maison Verte, he saw Raymonde walking 
impatiently on the lawn, darkened by the length- 
ening shadows of the gables and turrets. 

“ How late you are ! ” she said, a bright smile 
lighting her face. “I began to think you had 
broken your word. That would have been a great 
pity, for my mother has gone to Langres, and will 
not return till late in the evening ; my father is 
alone, and we three will dine delightfully all by 
ourselves.” 

In truth, thanks to the absence of Mme. Clo- 
tilde, a sweet and familiar intimacy was enjoyed 
during the whole dinner between these three 
sympathetic beings, unconstrained by the inquisi- 
tive eyes and wearisome conversation of the mis- 
tress of the mansion. 

M. La Tremblaie, released from his wife’s ab- 
sorbing sway, felt all the freedom of a schoolboy 
playing truant. His mind revived, his tongue was 
unloosed, and he poured out his wine in larger 
measure, as if to convince himself that he had re- 
covered his liberty of action. Thus dinner was 
prolonged far into the evening, and the three 
friends had hardly finished dessert before the first 
shades of twilight were gliding along the hang- 
ings of the dining-room. M. La Tremblaie threw 
himself into a comfortable chair, and, fatigued by 
the nervous expenditure he had made, rocked 
back and forth in an idle way, leaving the con- 
versation to be carried on by the young people, 


112 


RAYMONDE. 


and contenting himself by replying occasionally 
with a vague smile to their witty sallies. By de- 
grees his head fell back, and sleep took possession 
of his senses. 

“ He is asleep,” whispered Raymonde ; “ that 
often happens after dinner. Do not appear to 
notice it, and we will go into the library. Give 
me your hand, and I will guide you, lest you 
waken him by hitting against the furniture.” 

She raised the heavy curtain that separated 
the two rooms, and they slipped out on tiptoe. 
The library was entirely dark, and Antoine was in 
no hurry to let go his hold of the girl’s little hand. 
A strange emotion of delight thrilled through his 
whole frame as he felt it within his grasp, warm 
and trembling like a captive bird. They stood 
for a moment in the darkness without moving ; 
then Raymonde, slowly disengaging her hand, 
groped her way to the pier-table, and lighted a 
lamp, whose dark shade threw a round luminous 
spot in the middle of the inlaid floor, while the 
rest of the room was still left in shadow. 

“ There ! ” she said ; ‘‘ now we can stay here 
quietly till he wakes. The servants are accus- 
tomed to see him go to sleep occasionally after 
dinner, and they have orders not to disturb him. 
We can talk, if you think it worth while to talk 
to a little girl so ignorant as I am.” 

“Your pretended ignorance,” replied Antoine, 
sitting down near the divan on which she had 


RAYMONDE. 


113 


thrown herself, ‘4s precisely what charms me 
most.” 

“ Charms I she murmured ; “the word is very 
strong. I thought you learned men never exag- 
gerated.” 

“ The word expresses exactly what I feel,” he 
replied briefly. Then he was silent and absorbed 
in thought, all the time watching her slightest 
movement ; for in the dim light that enveloped 
her he could plainly discern the undulating lines 
of her supple form, the shadowy profile of her 
face, the tip of her ear immersed in the waves of 
her hair, and the exquisite curve of her eyelids, 
bent down as if waiting for him to make the next 
movement. 

In this profound silence Raymonde neither 
dared to look at him nor speak to him. Her wo- 
manly instinct forewarned her that the moment 
had come when the young man would take cour- 
age and open his heart. She had a presentiment 
that a declaration of love was even then hanging 
upon his lips, and her mind vibrated between the 
desire and the fear of seeing him break away from 
the reserve he had thus far maintained. Her heart 
beat rapidly, and her hand nervously twisted the 
fringe of the divan. She understood meantime 
that her silence increased the embarrassment of 
the situation, and longed to break it. 

“ I am so foolish,” she said — and it seemed to 
her that her voice had doubled its volume in the 
S 


114 


RAYMONDE. 


intense stillness — “ I am surprised that a man who 
knows so much as you do can take any pleasiu’e 
in my conversation.” 

“ I do take a great pleasure in it,” he answered ; 
“so much so that, when I am away, nothing else 
interests me. Still, every time I leave you, I feel 
that I have not said a single word to you of 
what is uppermost in my mind. Mile. Ray- 
monde, I — 

He stopped abruptly. Ho, he thought, not 
yet t Let her have time to get better acquainted 
with me before revealing my secret. And his 
lips closed upon the sentence already begun. 

She listened with her eyes shut. When she 
heard him pronounce her name, a delicious shud- 
der of anxiety ran through her whole frame ; then, 
perceiving that he had become silent, a confused 
feeling of having been mistaken succeeded the emo- 
tion of breathless anticipation. She opened her 
eyes, and, turning half-round, murmured shyly : 
“ What did you say ? ” 

He had become master of himself, and, shaking 
his head, replied : 

“ An idea came into my mind, and I hesitate 
to tell you what it is, lest you should not receive 
it favorably. How I wish my mother knew you 
— she would love you so much ! ” 

Raymonde raised herself on her elbow, and 
smiled with a mingled sensation of disappoint- 
ment and satisfaction j for, taken in good part. 


RAYMONDE. 


115 


the wish expressed by Antoine was a kind of deli- 
cately-veiled declaration. 

“Are you sure of it ?” she asked. “ Your fa- 
ther has a poor opinion of my character ; who 
knows if I should not produce the same effect upon 
your mother ? And yet I loved her from the first 
moment I heard you speak of her. You cannot 
believe what an impression you gave me of a hap- 
py home, when, in the wood of La Tillaye, you de- 
scribed the impatience with which they were wait- 
ing for your arrival. I longed to be there my- 
self and witness the happiness of your parents 
as they received with open arms the son from 
whom they had been separated for many years ! 
I thank you for having anticipated my wish, and 
one of these mornings Jannie and I will pay you 
a visit.” 

“ When you see my mother,” continued An- 
toine, “ you will be sure to like her. She is a good 
woman, very religious and simple-hearted. The 
frankness of your nature will go straight to her 
heart.” 

“Frankness? Certainly that is true,” mur- 
mured Raymonde ; “ but is that such a great vir- 
tue that you place it above all the other qualities 
that may belong to me ? ” 

“ It is the most important quality. A woman 
who is not sincere and natural may be admired, 
but she cannot be esteemed.” 

“ In short, you would consider me a kind of 


116 


RAYMONDE. 


small monster if my conscience were burdened 
with the slightest falsehood ? ” 

“ You could not speak falsely ! ” he exclaimed ; 
“ your eyes are too clear to have ever allowed an 
untruth to trouble their peaceful depths.” 

While he was speaking, it seemed to Ray- 
monde as if Osmin’s colossal shade suddenly arose 
from the remotest part of the library, regarding 
her with eyes full of reproach, and menacing her 
with its giant finger. Her conscience reproached 
her, and her face took on a serious expression. 

“ You think me better than I am ! ” she said, 
shaking her head. 

Antoine made a movement of incredulity. 

“What,” he went on, seizing her hand and 
smiling, “ do you pretend that you are capable of 
telling a falsehood ? ” 

His face had involuntarily approached hers, 
and Haymonde felt rather than saw his tender 
and uneasy glances fixed upon her eyes, as if they 
would read their deepest meaning. 

“ I did not say so,” she cried out ; “ only I do 
not wish you to be deceived. Like everybody 
else, I have little sins weighing upon my con- 
science.” 

He still held her hand. “ Come now,” he in- 
sinuated in a gentle tone, “ tell them to me, will 
you ?” 

She remained undecided, and still felt that she 
ought not to lose the opportunity for confessing 


RAYMONDE. 


117 


her entanglement with Osmin. The hour was 
propitious, they were alone, and the lamp, dis- 
creetly shaded, plunged into shadow the corner 
where she was reclining, so that Antoine could not 
see her blush ; besides, he seemed disposed to be 
indulgent to her faults. She took courage and 
decided to tell the whole story. 

“Well, then ! ” she began — 

At that very moment the curtain of the dining- 
room was violently thrust aside, and Mme. Clo- 
tilde appeared before the disconcerted young peo- 
ple. They had barely time to unclasp their hands. 

“ What are you plotting in that comer ? ” de- 
manded the lady, throwing upon them a suspicious 
look. 

Antoine arose, and Raymonde slowly raised 
herself from the divan. 

“We were waiting,” she replied, “for my 
father to waken.” 

“ You did not find the time long, it appears ! ” 
observed Mme. Clotilde, ironically. “Your father 
went to his room half an hour ago ; I am weary 
with my long drive, and I wish to retire also.” 

Antoine understood that his presence was not 
desired, made his excuses briefly, and took leave 
of the mistress of the house. 

When he had gone, Mme. Clotilde lighted a 
candle, and, presenting it to her daughter, said 
sharply : 

“My dear, endeavor in future to be a little 


118 


RAY MONDE. 


more reserved, and do not spend hours in a tete-d,' 
tete with a young man whom you scarcely know 
at all. This is highly improper. If M. de Pr4- 
fontaine should hear of it, he would be much dis- 
pleased, and would have good reason for being so.” 

Raymonde, entirely discomfited, took the can- 
dle extended to her, and went out without say- 
ing a word. 

Mme. Clotilde, when she found herself alone, 
placed the lamp on the table, sat down, and be- 
came absorbed in a meditation which was not spe- 
cially favorable to Antoine. This youth had in- 
terfered with her plans, and she hated him. Ray- 
monde, doubtless, was in love with him, and ready 
to sacrifice Osmin to her new fancy. But such a 
result was not according to this worldly woman’s 
taste. She wished to bestow her daughter upon 
a person of distinction in the canton, an influen- 
tial neighbor, who would introduce his relatives 
to the Maison Verte, and open to its occupants 
the doors, hitherto closed, of the honorable houses 
in the vicinity. But to have for a son-in-law the 
son of an obscure forester, a professor without 
fortune and without position in the country, who 
would take Raymonde to Paris, and leave her 
alone with her husband in the depth of the woods ! 
No, she could not think of such a thing, and she 
must nip this love affair in the bud. She took a 
sheet of paper and wrote the following letter to 
Prefontaine : 


KAYMONDE. 


119 


“ My dear Osmin : You stay away among the 
mountains longer than you ought. Raymonde is 
impatient, and charges me to tell you that she 
finds the time rather long and her lover a little 
indifferent. You know, my dear friend, how im- 
pulsive she is ; do not leave her to seek amuse- 
ment with some one else, and commit some 
thoughtless deed. Think that the absent are in 
the wrong, and remember the proverb : Who 
goes to the chase loses his place. Make your un- 
cle understand that yours is by the side of your 
-fiancee^ and return as soon as possible.” 

When the letter was sealed, she gave it in 
charge to the servant-boy, telling him to carry it 
himself at dawn to the post-office at Auberive. 
This duty fulfilled, she retired to her chamber 
with a firm faith in Osmin’s speedy appearance, 
and went to sleep with the clear conscience of the 
mother of a family who has properly fulfilled her 
duties. 


VIII. 

It was near the end of September. The for- 
est, busily at work in changing its summer garb 
into the costume of autumn, was enshrouded in a 
white veil of impenetrable mist. It seemed as if 
the drop-curtain of the theatre had fallen between 


120 


RAYMONDE. 


it and the spectators. One morning, however, the 
curtain was raised, and the magnificence of the 
new scenery displayed in all its glory. The sky 
was of a delicate blue, the meadows were spangled 
with flowers ; while, on the forest borders, the 
crab-apple and beam trees scattered over the 
brown soil their purple leaves. The woods re- 
sounded in all directions with the barking of 
dogs, and the Sunday bells filled the sonorous air 
with silvery tones. Antoine went early to the 
Maison Verte, and every one in the house felt the 
peaceful influence of the beautiful day. M. La 
Tremblaie was almost gay ; Raymonde could not 
keep still in one place ; Mme. Clotilde herself was 
all honey and sugar. A secret and skillfully-re- 
strained joy softened the sharpness of her voice, 
rounded the angles of her character, and quieted 
her malicious disposition. 

‘‘ Where are all these people going to, dressed 
in their Sunday clothes ? ” exclaimed Raymonde, 
who was looking out of the window. “ They are 
all taking the road to the woods of Charbon- 
niere.” 

“ It is St. Michael’s day,” replied Antoine ; 
‘‘ they are on their way, doubtless, to the rapport 
of Amorey.” 

“ What is this rapport f ” 

“A festival celebrated in the woods near a 
miraculous fountain. Every one goes to it from 
far and near.” 


RAYMONDE. 


121 


“Father,” said Raymonde, abruptly, rushing 
to M. La Tremhlaie and throwing her arms around 
his neck, “ if you were good, you would have the 
horse harnessed and take us to the 

“Would you like this drive, my dear?” says 
La Tremhlaie timidly, to Mine. Clotilde. 

“ You know very well that the open air has a 
bad effect upon me, and that jolting gives me the 
headache. But you can go without me. M. Ver- 
dier will be your guide. Only start as soon as 
you can, and return before dark.” 

Half an hour later the carriage rolled slowly 
under the woods, and then, with much jolting, 
gained the forest-road leading to the valley of 
Amorey. Raymonde had made herself fine, and 
a small round felt hat, coquettishly placed on 
the rich masses of her red hair, gave a free-and- 
easy expression to her face. She sat on the front 
seat by the side of the driver, and from time to 
time, when the carriage grazed the slope of the 
narrow road, gathered at random dogberries and 
beam-berries, and then, turning to the back seat 
where M. La Tremhlaie was talking with Antoine, 
threw over them handfuls of red berries and green 
leaves. When they reached the bottom of the 
hill, distant sounds announced that the festival 
was in full progress, and all at once, at a turn of 
the road, the valley of the Moulineaux lay spread 
out before them. 

On the riglit and left the ancient forests, stud- 


122 


RAYMONDE. 


ded with massive trees risiDg like pyramids, formed 
a framework for the meadow-land, where the f^te 
was going on. The motley and noisy crowd moved 
restlessly about on the close-cut grass. The men 
were drinking, seated on the benches of an im- 
provised wine-shop ; the women, with caps of vio- 
let-colored cloth bordered with black lace, flocked 
around a dozen shops where beads, medals, and 
confectionery were sold ; the children hung to 
their skirts, and cast covetous glances toward the 
piles of gingerbread in the shop-windows. Far- 
ther on, two violin-players, perched on a stage, 
gave forth the shrill music for a dance, in which 
the young people of the neighboring villages 
joined. This was, indeed, the best part of the 
f^te. The girls, decked in their pretty dresses 
and smart neck-handkerchiefs, their heads adorned 
with linen caps trimmed with colored ribbons, 
danced with a quiet movement, a sedate air, and 
eyes slyly cast down ; the young men, their hats 
on one side, their new blouses carelessly open to 
show their Sunday vests, danced with more lively 
gestures, a more erect carriage, and more animated 
countenances. After each figure they lifted their 
partners in their arms and then put them down 
again with a cry of joy. There was something 
healthful in this spontaneous and sonorous laugh- 
ter. The air was full of the noisy music, even to 
the forests of beech-trees, whose huge shadows 
lengthened slowly and progressively toward the 


RAYMONDE. 


123 


rustic ball, as if to warn the dancers of the flight 
of time and the brevity of human enjoyment. 

Sometimes a couple deserted the dance, and 
made their way to the clump of aspens where the 
miraculous fountain glided in clear sheets over 
steps of Nature’s handiwork, and then hollowed 
out for itself a reservoir in the porous stone. The 
principal property of this calcareous water lay in 
its power of slowly petrifying the roots and mosses 
over which it flowed. But the country girls cared 
little for this virtue, while popular belief attrib- 
uted to it a still more marvelous characteristic — • 
that of revealing to maidens whether they would 
be married within a short time. 

The consultation of the oracle was carried on 
in the following fashion. The maiden threw a 
pin into the reservoir. If it fell in a straight line 
to the bottom, the marriage would take place 
within the year ; but, if it deviated, being drawn 
away by the current, farewell to the wedding ; 
the maiden ran the risk of being an old maid. 

Antoine had explained to Raymonde the vir- 
tues of the fountain. 

‘‘ I must try this experiment,” she said. 

She approached the reservoir, took a pin from 
her corsage, and let it fall down upon the clear 
surface. The pin, without a second’s delay, de- 
scended perpendicularly to the bottom of the 
spring, where hundreds of others were already 
sparkling in the sunlight. 


124 


RAYMONDE. 


“Nonsense!” murmured tlie girl, as if she 
were replying to a secret thought ; “ the absurd 
omen ! The important thing is not to know when 
I shall be married, but whom I shall marry.” 

She turned to Antoine, and saw his penetrating 
eyes fixed upon her. 

“Those who consult the oracle,” replied her 
companion, “have probably made up their minds 
on the latter point, and therefore are only inter- 
ested in the former one.” 

Raymonde blushed, and, starting back to the 
pathway, returned slowly to the ball. When she 
heard the violins and saw the dancing, a new fan- 
cy entered her head, and she said to Antoine : 

“ I am sure you have never danced ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“Very well!” she continued; “are you will- 
ing to try ? ” 

It was of no use to refuse and protest that 
his ignorance would throw every thing into con- 
fusion ; she insisted so persistently that he ended 
by obliging her. They were in search of a vis-d- 
vis when M. La Tremblaie made his appearance. 
The hubbub of the fUe irritated his nerves ; he was 
tired out, and could stand the uproar no longer. 

“The horse is uneasy,” he replied to his daugh- 
ter’s indignant exclamations ; “ it is late, and we 
have promised to be home before night.” 

“How provoking!” exclaimed Raymonde. 
“If you were good, you would take your seat 


RAYMONDE. 


125 


quietly in the carriage, walk the horse on the 
road toward home, and as soon as our quadrille is 
finished we will overtake you hy the cross-road.” 

M. La Tremhlaie was not satisfied with this 
arrangement, but he had never in his life known 
how to refuse anything to her. Yielding there- 
fore to her entreaties, he murmured : 

‘‘ Willful child ! do as you wish, hut remember 
your promise. I shall drive as slowly as possible^ 
and wait for you at the foot of the hill. I entrust 
her to you, M. Verdier.” 

As soon as the carriage had set out for Vivey, 
Raymonde cried, “ Now we will dance ! ” and 
darted into the midst of the hall. 

The open air, the autumnal sun, the noise of 
Xh^fete^ and the consciousness of being alone with 
Antoine in the crowd, excited her beyond measure. 
Her dark eyes sparkled, her lips were wreathed with 
smiles, her supple form swayed gently back and 
forth in obedience to the rhythm of the violins. 

“ Ladies’ change ! ” called out one of the musi- 
cians, in nasal tones. 

She held up her skirt gracefully, advanced 
toward the peasant girl who was her vis-d-vis, 
and gayly held out her hand. The couples 
mingled, and joined hands and unjoined them in 
time with the music. The appearance of this 
beautiful young girl in a city toilet aroused the 
curiosity of the peasants. They formed a circle 
around her, and comments were made in all di- 


126 


RAYMONDE. 


rections. Antoine, while performing awkwardly 
his r6le in the figure, heard a peasant girl whis - 
pering to her companion : 

“Isn’t that the young lady of the Maison 
Verte ?” 

“ Yes, and the youth who accompanies her is 
Yerdier’s son, of Auberive.” 

“ He is her sweetheart, then. They told me 
that M. de Prefontaine was her lover.” 

“ What of that, my dear ? She has changed 
her mind ! ” 

“ Galop ! ” called out the musician again. The 
couples crossed over, turned about, and Antoine 
could not catch the rest of the conversation. 

f 

“ Alas ! it is finished ! ” sighed Raymonde, 
courtesying to her partner. 

“We must go,” said the young man, briefly, 
adding that it would be better to return by the 
forest-road. 

“ Ho,” replied the girl, rearranging her hair ; 
“ there is nothing more tedious than to go back 
by the same path. It is much better to go 
through the woods. You certainly know the 
way, do you not ? ” 

Antoine objected strongly to the plan. He 
said that the appearance of the woods had 
changed in seven years, the clearings had become 
copses, and the paths had disappeared in the 
thickets ; but she would not listen to his advice. 
They kept along the meadow as far as the farm 


RAYMONDS. 


127 


of Amorey, and then entered a path cutting ob- 
liquely the forest of the reserve. Antoine was 
thoughtful, and replied to Raymonde’s questions 
in monosyllables. The conversation of the two 
peasant girls occupied his thoughts. The allusion 
to M. de Prefontaine had left a disagreeable im- 
pression upon his mind. He remembered hearing 
Mme. Clotilde mention this person, but the name, 
uttered in ordinary conversation, had not then 
aroused his attention. The peasant girl’s remark 
was probably nothing but village gossip, and yet 
it troubled him very much. 

Raymonde watched her companion slyly, and 
was much displeased at his disagreeable mood. 

“ You are anxious,” at last she said ; “ what 
is the matter with you ? ” 

Antoine raised his head and gazed earnestly 
upon her frank and open countenance as if he 
would read her secret thoughts. 

“Mile. Raymonde,” he replied, after a mo- 
ment’s silence, “the other evening, when Mme. 
La Tremblaie entered the library, you were on 
the point of telling me something — something 
that seemed to be of gi*eat importance in regard 
to yourself. At least I fancied I read this in 
your eyes ; was I mistaken ? ” 

She did not say a word in reply, and devoted 
her attention to digging little holes with the end 
of her umbrella in the soft earth of the pathway. 
He went on : 


128 


RAYMONDE. 


“ If you really think me worthy of confidence, 
why will you not improve this opportunity when 
we are alone to tell me what you intended to con- 
fess to me ? Do not the silence and increasing ob- 
scurity of this forest invite you to open your heart 
as well as the library at the Maison Verte?” 

The disconcerted expression on the girl’s mo- 
bile features plainly indicated the embarrassment 
produced by her companion’s persistence, but still 
her lips were closed. Mme. Clotilde’s sudden in- 
tervention seemed to have paralyzed the good im- 
pulse that had urged Raymonde to own every- 
thing to her lover. The propitious occasion had 
passed ; now she was timid and undecided. An 
hour of delightful intimacy was before her, and 
it would cost her too much to disturb its enjoy- 
ment by a disagreeable revelation. Antoine’s 
persistent and inquiring glance frightened and 
irritated her. 

“ Come,” continued he, ‘‘ take me for a con- 
fessor ! ” 

“ I have nothing to confess,” she replied, turn- 
ing away her head, and added, with a smile a 
little forced : “ Conscientiously, I cannot invent 
sins ! ” 

Antoine frowned, and replied in an irritated 
tone : 

“ Of course, I do not ask you to invent. Be- 
sides, I know perfectly well that I have no right 
to become the confidant of your secrets.” 


KAYMONDE. 


129 


‘‘ Why do you insist, then ? ” she exclaimed. 
“ Who makes you think I have secrets ? ” 

“Who? Yourself.” 

“ I ? Oh ! ” 

“ Yes, you — or at least the disturbed expres- 
sion of your face, so little made for deception.” 
He drew near to her, and said in a more emphatic 
tone : “Remember our conversation in the li- 
brary, and tell me — ” 

“ What?” 

Antoine’s eyes fell upon the girl’s wrists, 
which he saw beneath the loose ruffles were with- 
out ornaments. 

“ Tell me, for instance,” he continued, “ who 
gave you that bracelet adorned with a motto, that 
I found in the spring of La Tillaye ? ” 

Taken unawares by this demand, Raymonde 
blushed, and her perplexity increased. The ques- 
tion was singularly connected with the subject of 
her thoughts. But must she speak and tell the 
ridiculous story of Osmin’s love, with all its 
trivial particulars ? The concession was humiliat- 
ing ; and, besides, she could not tell what effect 
it might produce. The idea of being brought 
into competition with such a rival would perhaps 
frighten Antoine away, and then she must give 
up forever the sweet dream of tenderness, the 
conquest of that heart of priceless worth, whose 
increasing sympathy she watched with emotions 
of delight ! Nevertheless, she must make some 
9 


130 


RAYMONDE. 


response, or tlie question would be repeated, and, 
like all women, she got out of the difficulty by a 
subterfuge. 

“ What good will it do you to know ? ” she 
said, trying to assume a jesting tone. 

‘‘None whatever ; you are right,” he replied, 
wounded at her frivolity. 

He commenced striking the brushwood with 
his cane, and they remained silent for some time. 
The path was narrow. Raymonde led the way, 
with her head bent down, and so troubled that 
she went straight forward without noticing the 
numerous paths crossing the one which they were 
walking. Antoine, absorbed in his ill-humor, fol- 
lowed her mechanically without giving a thought 
to the course he was taking. ^ 

“ You are angry ? ” she said, turning round to 
speak to him. 

“ I ? No. I see, however, that I have been 
indiscreet, and therefore I am silent.” 

“ You see a great deal I There is a spiteful 
feeling in your heart toward me, I am sure. Why 
do you attach so much importance to matters of 
no consequence ? ” 

“ Of no consequence ? ” he answered, shaking ^ 
his head. “ Are not bracelets of this kind, called j 
parte-honheury considered as keepsakes to which ? 
some sentimental superstition is attached ? ” 

“ That is a matter of fashion ! Every one 
wears them, and they are gifts of no importance.” i 


RAYMONDE. 


131 


“ Is that the case with yours ? ” 

“ Mine — To begin with, I do not wear it any 
more ; it is neither beautiful nor in good taste ! ” 
‘‘ The person who gave it to you would not 
feel flattered by the way you speak of the gift. 
You appear to attach little value to this expres- 
sion of his affection.” 

“ Certainly not ! ” she answered, with a ner- 
vous smile and heightened color. 

He noticed her anxiety, and was only partially 
satisfied with her explanation. 

“Acknowledge,” he continued, in an emphatic 
tone, partly ironical and partly serious — “ acknowl- 
edge that an indifferent person shows a remark- 
able degree of self-conceit in presenting a jewel 
on which is engraved ‘ Think of me,’ with a pansy 
around to make the meaning plainer ? What is 
the name of this eccentric friend ? ” 

“ His name is of little consequence ; you do 
not know him.” 

“ How can you tell ? ” he replied, in the same 
sarcastic tone. “ Was it M. de Prefontaine ? ” 
Her heart beat rapidly. “What makes you 
think so ? ” she exclaimed, much frightened. 
“ Who told you anything about him ? ” 

“I heard your mother speak of him. He is 
your neighbor and a visitor at the Maison Verte ? ” 
“Yes!” 

“ Why does he not come to see you now ? ” 

“ He is away making a visit.” 


132 


RAYMONDE. 


These answers were given in as few words as 
possible, and in an abrupt manner indicating great 
nervous irritation. 

“ He was a little in love with you — you may 
as well own it ! ” said Antoine, his face taking on 
a more melancholy expression. 

“It is possible. I concerned myself little 
about it.” 

“ Did he tell you so ? ” 

She turned round suddenly, her eyes full of 
tears, stamped her foot indignantly, and exclaimed 
in a voice broken by suffering and irritation : 

“ Why do you persecute me in this way ? 
What do you mean by asking me these odious 
questions? I wish I had gone back in the car- 
riage with my father.” 

She walked on at a rapid pace all the time 
she was talking, and suddenly uttered an excla- 
mation of surprise. 

“ Ah ! ” she said, “ where does this path lead 
to?” 

They had reached one of those hillocks made 
of stones that are found in some of the forests of 
the Langrois mountains. The path at this point, 
or rather the narrow opening , where they found 
themselves, descended almost perpendicularly to 
the bottom of a wooded gorge. They could see 
the stony outline as it passed between two colon- 
nades of beech-trees and then disappeared in the 
distance. 


RAYMONDE. 


133 


“We have taken the wrong road,” said An- 
toine, “ and are wandering far out of our course.” 

Raymonde laughed heartily; then, the expres- 
sion of her face changing rapidly from merriment 
to anxiety, she cried out in a contrite voice : 

“What will my poor father think, who is 
waiting for us all this time ? Many thanks, mon- 
sieur ; you are an excellent guide ! What will 
become of us ? ” 

Antoine examined the direction of the ravine, 
and tried to find out where they were. 

“ Courroy is on the left,” he said ; “ as soon 
as we reach the village, we can easily regain the 
road to Vivey. If you are not tired, and are not 
afraid of tearing your dress, we had better go 
through the forest.” 

“ Come on ! ” she replied, bravely. 

From the bottom of her heart she blessed the 
incident that put an end to the dangerous inqui- 
ries by which she had been tortured without 
mercy. In a quarter of an hour they reached the 
copse, but no path was yet visible. Antoine 
stopped, inhaled a long breath of the forest air, 
and said : 

“I smell charcoal-smoke. We must be near a 
coal-burner’s place. If we can find it, some one 
will guide us to the right road.” 

They walked on in the direction from which 
the pungent odor of the charcoal seemed to come, 
but the passage through the underwood became 


134 


RAYMONDE. 


more difficult as they advanced. Briers, inter- 
mingled with hawthorn-bushes, barred their pas- 
sage every minute, and clung maliciously to Ray- 
monde’s dress. Antoine was obliged to stoop 
down and release the fragile foulard, of which it 
was made, from the grasp of the thorns, and all 
this took time. The woods were growing dark 
already, and soon the last purple rays of the set- 
ting sun disappeared among the branches of the 
beech-trees. Just at this moment the young girl 
gave utterance to a cry of despair. The flounce 
of her skirt, caught in a sweet-brier bush, was 
half ripped from the dress. Her foot passed 
through it ; she tripped and fell, increasing the 
rent and entangling her leg as far as the knee. 

“ Have you hurt yourself ? ” exclaimed Antoine. 

“Ho, no,” she answered, blushing ; “but don’t 
look at me ; I know very well how to get out of 
the trouble by myself.” 

She managed to rise after considerable effort, 
and, to prevent another fall, was obliged to take 
under her arm the fragments of the unlucky skirt, 
while she reiterated to Antoine, in still more em- 
phatic terms, the request to go on in advance, and 
not look behind. At last the thicket was passed ; 
they reached a clearing of the wood that occupied 
the whole slope of the gorge, and saw in the twi- 
light the blazing red light from the charcoal kilns. 

Seven or eight conical hillocks appeared in a 
line, with spaces between them, on the declivity 


RAYMONDE. 


135 


recently cleared, where the trees of the reserve 
still remained, while piles of wood scattered here 
and there in long, gray rows broke the monoto- 
nous aspect of the soil. All around the copse in- 
closed the clearing with its immovable masses, 
and at the bottom of the gorge a little pond was 
visible, whose smooth surface, surrounded by a 
border of rushes, reflected the delicate red and 
green tints of the twilight sky. Near the heaps 
the black silhouettes of the coal-burners were 
clearly outlined ; and on the threshold of a turf- 
hut, near the verge of the forest, a coal-burner’s 
wife cradled an infant on her knees, singing an 
old song, whose melodious strains filled the air 
with soothing music. 

“ It is beautiful here ! ” murmured Raymonde, 
looking upon the peaceful forest-landscape, faintly 
luminous, with which the singer’s rustic refrain so 
well harmonized. 

Antoine was talking with the foremanj seeking 
information concerning the route they must take 
to find the way home. 

“ You are in the old reserve,” he replied ; 
within a gun-shot of the clearing you will come 
to a path leading to the Ronces forest, and from 
there to Vivey. I will send one of my workmen 
to show you the right road.” 

Before starting, however, Raymonde wanted 
to mend her dress, so that she might walk more 
comfortably. She went into the hut, took off her 


136 


RAYMONDE. 


skirt, borrowed a needle and thread of the coal- 
burner’s wife, and found a seat on the trunk of a 
tree, close by a fire kindled in the open air. She 
made a charming picture as she sat there. She 
had taken off her hat, and her abundant hair, 
with its warm tints, falling in wavy curls over 
her shoulders, brought out the velvet whiteness 
of her complexion, while her brown eyes sparkled 
in the flickering twilight. 

“ See to what a forlorn condition that detest- 
able thicket has brought me,” she said to Antoine, 
who was kneeling down on the grass at her feet ; 
“ my dress is entirely ruined ! ” 

“ I never saw you so beautiful ! ” he murmured, 
in a voice full of passionate emotion. 

He was again spellbound under her fascinating 
power, and reproached himself for brutality in 
tormenting her with absurd questions. Ray- 
monde’s face beamed with satisfaction at this 
avowal, so full of deep and tender feeling, and she 
pursued her task with renewed energy. 

The peasant-woman, seeing them deeply en- 
gaged in conversation, sat down near the hut, 
with her nursling in her arms, and recommenced 
her song. 

“ This place is pleasant,” said Raymonde, bit- 
ing off the thread with her small teeth, for she 
had finished mending her dress ; “ we must come 
here again.” 

She went into the hut to put on her dress and 


RAYMONDE. 


137 


arrange her toilet. When she came out, she 
slipped a piece of silver into the little hand of the 
child as it lay asleep on its mother’s lap, and then 
they set out on their way home under the guid- 
ance of an apprentice. They sent hack their 
guide as soon as they reached the path leading 
through the Ronces forest, and made their way 
slowly under the tree-branches. 

Night had come in earnest, and it was difficult 
to detect a trace of the path in the profound dark- 
ness that reigned in the woods. Occasionally, 
through the entangled branches, a star scintillated 
high up in the sky ; sometimes a jay, dozing in 
the fork of a hazelnut-tree, started out of his 
sleep, and flew away uttering a shrill cry ; then 
all was silent again. 

They passed on without uttering a word, for 
they had enough to do in listening to the tender 
and absorbing thoughts that fllled their breasts. 
A practised ear could have counted the pulsations 
of their hearts, they beat so violently. Ray- 
monde instinctively drew near to Antoine, and, at 
a place where all trace of the path was lost in the 
darkness, he took her hand and held it firmly 
within his own. Thus they walked on for a few 
moments, when the girl, stumbling against a tree, 
was thrown back, and found herself suddenly 
clasped in Antoine’s arms. 

“ Raymonde,” said he, in a voice full of deep 
feeling, “ I love you ! Will you be my wife ? ” 


138 


RAYMONDE. 


She was so taken by surprise that she could 
not say a word, and remained for a moment with- 
out moving, resting against his breast. 

“You do not reply,” he continued ; “are you 
angry at my rash declaration ? ” 

“No,” she whispered faintly ; “but I am suf- 
focating — give me room to breathe ! ” 

He released her, and of her own accord she 
placed her hands in his ; then she told him, in a 
plain, straightforward way, that she had loved 
him for a long time, ever since the first day she 
saw him. 

“ I am so happy,” she whispered, “ so proud 
that you have found out that I love you, and that 
you love me in return ! ” 

Antoine pressed her again close to his heart, 
and the deep forest, full of silence and dark- 
ness, heard the light murmur of the kiss of be- 
trothal. 

She leaned on his arm, while they walked at a 
slow pace, telling everything to each other with 
the unrestrained confidence that follows violent 
nervous emotion. They soon reached the out- 
skirts of the forest ; a gray light glimmered among 
the branches ; then the sky reappeared with its 
myriads of shining stars, and they were descend- 
ing the hill leading to Vivey, the village lights 
sparkling at the bottom of the gorge. 

“Walk slowly,” murmured Antoine; “it is 
so pleasant here ! Let me tell you once more 


RAYMOKDE. 


139 


how much I love you. Are you afraid of being 
scolded?” 

“ I am afraid that my father will he alarmed ; 
my mother will be angry, hut I am used to her 
ill-humor, and it does not disturb me.” 

‘‘ I think she has taken a dislike to me, and 
will shut the door in my face when she learns that 
I wish to marry you.” 

“ That is of no consequence ; my father will 
be on our side. Besides, I have a will of my own, 
as my mother knows very well, and she will take 
care not to oppose me. But what will they say 
at your house, when they find out that you love 
me?” 

‘‘My father and mother will say that I am a 
happy fellow ; and when they see you, they can- 
not help being charmed.” 

“ And your old friend, M. Noel ? ” 

“ He will be harder to manage,” replied An- 
toine, smiling ; “ but he will give in after a 
while.” 

Although walking very slowly, they came at 
last to the bottom of the hill, with the linden av- 
enue leading to the Maison Verte directly in front 
of them. 

“ A year since,” he continued, “ I was in no 
condition to ask you to share my fortunes ; my 
future was too uncertain. Now, without being 
rich, I can offer my wife an honorable position. 
You will see, Raymonde, we shall be happy ! Is 


140 


RAYMONDE. 


it best for me to speak to your father this even- 
ing ? ” 

“ No,” she replied, hastily ; “ leave me to man- 
age the matter and choose the favorable moment.” 

Osmin’s image, lost sight of entirely for more 
than an hour, suddenly loomed up in her memory. 
She was greatly troubled as to what would be the 
best way of breaking off her relations with him ; 
while his approaching return, with the long train 
of painful recriminations and disagreeable expla- 
nations, made her tremble with fear and lessened 
her confidence in the result of Antoine’s suit. 
Every tree in the avenue seemed to her like the 
menacing phantom of her colossal lover. Was it 
indeed a phantom, or was she the sport of an 
hallucination produced by the shadowy light 
faintly penetrating beneath the archway of trees ? 
A strange form suddenly detached itself from a 
linden and advanced toward them. At the -same 
time, Raymonde heard a stentorian voice resound- 
ing in her ears, like the trumpet of the day of judg- 
ment ; it was the voice of Osmin de Prefontaine, 
who exclaimed : 

“ It is you at last. Mile. Raymonde ! Plague 
take the rapport ! You have frightened us half 
to death, and we thought you were lost at the 
bottom of a quagmire ! ” 


RAYMONDE. 


141 


IX. 

Raymonde was so taken by surprise at Os- 
min’s unexpected appearance that she could not 
utter a word in reply. Antoine, ignorant of the 
meaning of what was going on, felt her arm trem- 
bling within his own. A moment of embarrassing 
silence succeeded, during which the only sound 
that broke the stillness was the rustle of the heavy 
wings of the moths against the foliage of the 
lindens. 

“ Do you take me for a ghost ? ” exclaimed 
Prefontaine. “ Don’t be uneasy, it is really I my- 
self in flesh and blood.” 

“ Ah ! it is you,” she replied at last, without 
knowing what she was saying ; “ it is you — al- 
ready ! ” 

Her head became dizzy, and without the sup- 
port of Antoine’s arm she would have fallen. 

“ You did not expect me so soon, and are much 
surprised at my arrival ? ” continued Osmin, too 
much excited himself to notice the cool reception 
of his fiancee. 

They walked on a few steps without speaking. 
After they left the avenue, Raymonde saw the 
two men curiously regarding each other by the 
uncertain light of the stars. 

‘‘It is M. Verdier without doubt,” said the gi- 


142 


KAYMONDE. 


ant, bowing. “Mile. Rayraonde, present me to 
your friend, or shall I present myself 

She made a great effort to recover her self- 
control, and, turning to Antoine, without daring 
to look at him, she stammered : 

“ It is M. Osmin de Prefontaine, of whom we 
were speaking just now.” 

“ Delighted to see you, monsieur ! ” cried Os- 
min, holding out his huge hand to Antoine. “ I 
have known your father for a long time, and we 
have killed more than one wolf in company.” 

“ I must change my dress,” said Raymonde to 
Antoine, “ and I leave you to tell my father the 
reason why we were unable to rejoin him.” 

She left them in the hall, and was hurrying 
up-stairs to her chamber when Osmin called out : 

“Are you running away for fear of being 
scolded ? Don’t be troubled, we will plead your 
cause. Allow me to follow you, M. Verdier.” 
Entering the drawing-room, and finding M. and 
Mme. La Tremblaie much agitated, he continued : 
“I have brought back the wanderer. Nothing 
very bad has happened, and M. Yerdier will tell 
you everything in a few words.” 

Antoine explained as well as he could the in- 
cidents of the evening. Mme. Clotilde was much 
annoyed, but managed to conceal her dissatisfac- 
tion. Osmin’s retmn inclined her to indulgence, 
and she contented herself with throwing the whole 
blame upon her husband, saying that a little 


RAYMONDE. 


143 


more decision on his part would have prevented 
the unfortunate adventure. M. La Tremhlaie, 
relieved from anxiety, and happy in getting off 
so cheaply, bent his hack to the burden with his 
usual resignation. Fortunately for all parties, 
dinner was announced, Raymonde making her 
appearance as they were going to the dining- 
room. 

She was very pale, and her eyes had a feverish 
brightness. They took their seats at the table, 
and hardly a word was spoken while they were 
partaking of the soup. Prefontaine, who had an 
enormous appetite, ate heartily, drank in the same 
proportion, and told stories of his hunting exploits, 
interspersing the narrative with noisy exclama- 
tions. Mme. Clotilde, with her radiant face, en- 
couraging glances, and smiling lips, took a ma- 
licious pleasure in drawing him out. She had not 
been so agreeable for a long time, and her affabil- 
ity even extended to Antoine, whom she pretend- 
ed to treat with distinguished consideration. He, 
however, was ill at ease ; the three wrinkles on his 
forehead were drawn close together, and gave a 
severe expression to his face. His penetrating eye 
was fixed alternately on Raymonde, who seemed 
lost in a dream, her head obstinately bent over her 
plate, and Prefontaine, who was in fine spirits 
from the combined influence of the happiness of 
coming back and the burgundy of his host. Os- 
min related a hunting story in the most boisterous 


144 


RAYMONDS. 


fashion ; he could not think of the right words, 
and laughed beforehand at his own jokes. An- 
toine felt a little more confident of success, as he 
recognized the dull brain and commonplace gayety 
of the last of the Prefontaines. It appeared im- 
possible that this stupid cub could ever have made 
an impression on Raymonde’s fancy ; and yet there 
was something perplexing and incomprehensible 
in her behavior in the presence of the new-comer. 

“M. Verdier,” said La Tremblaie, turning to 
his guest, “ while I was waiting on the forest road, 
I found some plants that I wish to show you.” 

He then commenced a scientific discussion with 
Antoine that made Osmin open his round eyes. 
Like all persons of little cultivation, he had a dis- 
dain mingled with terror for science and scientific 
men. Although possessing a temperament little 
inclined to jealousy, he could not get over his as- 
tonishment at finding young Yerdier installed on 
such intimate terms in the family. Raymonde in- 
deed seemed too full of fun, too impatient of any- 
thing tedious, to fall in love with a savant. And 
yet this grave and reserved professor, who enam- 
eled his conversation with Latin words, aroused 
his distrust. “ I must open my eyes,” he thought. 
‘‘ By-and-by I will make the fellow talk, and see 
the bottom of the affair.” 

After dinner Raymonde was in the library for 
a minute, alone with Antoine. 

“ Go to-morrow morning to the coal-burner’s 


RAYMONDE. 


145 


house at the old reserve,'’ she whispered. ‘‘ I shall 
be there. I have something to tell you.” 

Conversation languished in the drawing-room. 
Every one was tired except Prefontaine. In a few 
minutes Antoine rose to take leave, and Osmin, 
who had come from Lamargelle on foot, left the 
house at the same time. When they were out-of- 
doors, he lighted his pipe, looked at the sky, and, 
taking his companion’s arm, said : 

“How the stars shine, and what a beautiful 
night it is ! I have no desire to go to bed. How 
do you feel, M. Verdier?” 

“ For the moment, I feel as you do ; but when 
you are at Lamargelle, and I at Auberive, I think 
we shall contemplate the heaven of our beds 
more willingly than the stars.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! that is well said ! ” exclaimed Os- 
min, while his tremendous outburst of laughter 
was repeated by the echo of the forest. “You 
are a good fellow, and if you are willing we will 
strike a bargain. Instead of taking the Charbon- 
ni^re woods, you can go back through La Tretie, 
and I will cross the plain so as to go along with 
you. Does that suit you ? Then it is done ! ” 

Antoine could not refuse the cordial offer with- 
out being rude. Besides, seeing Osmin in such a 
communicative mood, he proposed to draw him 
out and learn how he was situated in regard to 
Raymonde. They climbed together the hill that 
leads to the plateau. Prefontaine smoked with 
10 


146 


RAYMONDE. 


great whiffs, hummed a tune, and pressed An- 
toine’s arm tenderly. He was never melancholy 
after drinking, and a good dinner, moistened with 
generous wine, disposed him to universal benevo- 
lence. 

“ La Tremblaie is a worthy man,” he said ; 
“his taste in wines is not to he despised. Don’t 
talk to me of bordeaux ; it is a wine that is bad 
for the blood. Long live burgundy, which fills 
the veins with sunshine ! Excellent cellar, La 
Tremblaie’s ! Good house ; everything is perfect 
there — ^the table and the people ! ” 

He was silent for a moment. A bright vision 
of Raymonde passed through his brain, and re- 
minded him of his intention to bring his compan- 
ion to confession. Abruptly changing his theme, 
he inquired : 

“ How do you like her ? ” 

“ Like whom ? ” 

“ Why, Mile. Raymonde, of course.” 

“ She is a true woman,” replied Antoine, be- 
coming serious — “ perfectly frank, natural, and 
charming.” 

“ That is so ! ” exclaimed Osmin, delighted, 
and forgetting entirely his role of examining 
magistrate. “ But there are prtidish people here 
who think her badly brought up, because she 
rides alone on horseback, and does not tell every- 
thing she knows to the whole world ! As far as 
I am concerned, I like her far better than the 


RAYMOXDE. 


147 


devotees, who go about with theu- eyes cast 
down, and open their lips only to mumble their 
prayers. You have used the right word ; she is 
a true woman, and I hope she will he a true 
wife.” 

They had arrived at the great plain extending 
between Vivey and Lamargelle, and, walking on, 
passed the outskirts of the same woods where, a 
few hours before, Antoine and Raymonde had 
confessed their love. The young man felt a cold 
chill running through his veins at the remem- 
brance of this hour of enchantment. He raised 
his eyes to the stars shining high in the sky above 
him, the same stars that had witnessed his first 
kiss on the young girl’s brow ; then he drew in a 
long breath of the fresh evening air, and re- 
plied : 

‘‘ Yes, the husband she chooses will be a happy 
man.” 

“ He is already chosen ! ” said Osmin, with a 
loud laugh. 

Antoine trembled. ‘‘ What do you mean ? ” 
he cried, his eyes fixed on Prefontaine, whose arm 
he had relinquished. 

‘‘ Indeed, you would never imagine,” an- 
swered his companion, good-naturedly. “Her 
parents were discreet, and that was right ; but 
matters have gone so far now that I may venture 
to speak. I am the happy man.” 

The young professor shivered from head to 


148 


RAYMONDE. 


foot with intense nervous emotion. Was he in a 
dream or was he awake ? 

‘‘ Have you just asked the hand of Mile. La 
Tremblaie ? ” he said, in a low tone. 

“ No, I did not wait till this evening. I made 
my proposal two months ago.” 

“ Does Mile. Raymonde know this ? ” 

‘‘ Certainly. I paid my addresses to Ray- 
monde as soon as I had received her mother’s 
consent. It is better to confess to God than to 
the saints. I have had trouble enough, however. 
She hesitated, advanced one step, and went back 
two ; for it takes these young girls a long time 
to make up their minds to say yes. I waited 
patiently, and kept up my courage, until at last 
I succeeded in taming the little wild partridge. 
We have been betrothed ever since Assumption- 
day in August.” 

“ It was you, then, who gave her the bracelet 
with the motto ? ” ' 

You noticed it ? Then she still wears it ? 
So much the better ! ” exclaimed Osmin, trium- 
phantly. “ Everything goes on swimmingly, for 
I talked with her mother to-day. In a week the 
bans will be published, and in a fortnight the 
marriage will take place. You will be there ; 
you are a gallant youth, and I must secure your 
services as groomsman. We shall have a jolly 
time, you may be sure ! ” 

Farewell ! ” said Antoine, almost distract- 


RAYMONDE. 


149 


ed, as he dashed into a path leading into the 
woods. 

“ Where are you going ? ” cried Osmin, full 
of amazement. “We have not yet reached La 
Tretle ; you have made a mistake, comrade. 
Here ! Come back ! ” he shouted. 

But Antoine, letting him shout till he was out 
of breath, made his way through the copse with 
the utmost speed. He had not the slightest idea 
where he was, nor where he was going. He 
walked straight ahead, sometimes in the midst of 
the thicket, sometimes through the wet glades, 
his feet sinking into the spongy soil at every 
step. At times he thought he must be intoxi- 
cated. The trees whirled around ; the earth 
slipped from under his feet ; the sky itself, 
studded with myriads of stars, seemed to totter ; 
Prefontaine’s boisterous laugh rang continually 
in his ears. In the midst of this imaginary whirl 
of surrounding objects, his brain appeared to be 
paralyzed, and his ideas became torpid. One sin- 
gle thought from time to time aroused his slum- 
bering faculties, and brought with it acute suffer- 
ing. “ She lied ! ” he said to himself — “ she 
lied!” 

Pursuing thus his wild course through the 
woods, he stumbled suddenly against a stump, and 
fell down. The freshness of the moist grass, 
calming for a moment the fever in his blood, 
helped him to recover his self-possession and re- 


150 


RAYMONDE. 


member where he was. He found himself on a 
hill-side not far from the main road, and near a 
cross-road where a house was plainly visible, the 
windows being still lighted. He recognized the 
dwelling of the forester of Yal-Clavin, who had 
doubtless finished his tour of inspection and was 
eating his supper in the kitchen. The blaze of 
the fire on the hearth was easily distinguished 
through the windows, and the voices of children 
were wafted to his ears through the evening air. 

Antoine, his forehead resting on his hands, 
collected his ideas by degrees, and thought how 
little time it had required to change his paradise 
into a hell of despair. The more he refiected, the 
more odious Raymonde’s conduct appeared to 
him. She had basely deceived him, and played 
her cards at the same time for him and Prcfon- 
taine. What he had taken for unaffected sim- 
plicity was only a refinement of coquetry. Every- 
thing was over ; there was nothing for him to do 
but tear this miserable love from his heart, and he 
resolved to commence the painful operation im- 
mediately. He arose from his seat, crossed the 
road, and knocked at the forester’s door, who ut- 
tered an exclamation of surprise upon recognizing 
him. Undisturbed at the curiosity of the forester’s 
wife or the frightened looks of the children, he 
asked for writing materials, and, tracing some 
lines on a sheet of yellow paper torn out of an 
old register, folded the letter, and inclosed it in a 


RAYMONDE. 


151 


roiigli envelope hastily made for the occasion. 
Mill-muring a few words of excuse and thanks to 
his hosts, who thought him insane, he went out and 
plunged once more into the midst of the woods. 

The autumnal night, loaded with freshness and 
vapor, still hovered for many long hours over the 
massive foliage, the deserted paths, and the marshy 
glades of the forest. At last morning dawned in 
the east, rose-colored clouds appeared on the pearl- 
gray sky, the red foliage of the beech-trees laden 
with nuts shivered, and the cocks began to crow 
in the yards of Vivey. 

The sound of the monotonous flail was heard 
under the porch of a barn. The miller opened 
the sluices, and the water was thrown upon the 
wheel, turning it slowly with a scattering of little 
white drops. The nine strokes of the Angelus 
rang out from the pointed belfry of the little 
church. A flock of ducks descended gravely with 
a wabbling motion to the stream, and suddenly, 
with joyful cries, they all plunged into the water, 
which was thrown round in all directions under 
the shock of their wings and webbed feet. Then 
the sun, shining through the trees, completed the 
waking up of the village. A gardener passed 
back and forth before the windows of the Maison 
Yerte, raking the gravel in the paths. The win- 
dow-blinds of Raymonde’s room were thrown 
back, letting in the bright sunshine in full force. 
She was up and dressed, having slept little during 


152 


RAYMONDE. 


the night. Her eyes had dark circles around them, 
and her face was pale and anxious. Everyone 
else in the house was asleep, and, improving the 
opportunity, she descended lightly to the stable, 
ordered Jannie to be saddled, and, springing upon 
his back, started off in the direction of the old 
reserve. 

She longed to reach the coal-burners’ place, 
and hoped to find Antoine there. Her conscience 
was by no means at rest. Although she thought 
it would be comparatively easy to get rid of Pre- 
fontaine, she very much feared Antoine’s resent- 
ment of her want of frankness. He had expressed 
so many times his horror of dissimulation. She 
reproached herself bitterly for not having yielded 
to his entreaties the previous evening. Why had 
she not told him everything when he was so anxi- 
ous to listen to her ? At least, she would wait no 
no longer, and that very morning she would con- 
fess her folly without the least reserve. She would 
explain the reasons why the conditional promise 
extorted from her by Osmin had never appeared 
to her of serious importance ; and he would be- 
lieve her, for she would lay open her whole heart 
before him. She loved him so much that she 
could not fail to convince him of her sincerity. 
Her affection for him absorbed her entire being ; 
and now that she knew it was reciprocated, the 
idea of losing him made an icy chill run through 
her veins. 


RAYMONDE. 


153 


On reaching the old reserve, she saw through the 
morning mist the smoke of the kilns in the midst 
of the clearing. The coal-burner’s wife had hung 
the pot over the fire burning near the entrance of 
the hut ; the master and the apprentices went 
back and forth around the furnaces, and the wood- 
men’s axes resounded in the distance. 

Raymonde alighted, fastened Jannie to a tree, 
and, with a palpitating heart, made her way 
through the young growth of wood, looking 
everywhere for Antoine. Coming to an open 
kiln from which they were taking the charcoal, 
she asked the foreman if he had seen the young 
man who was with her the evening before. 

“Yes, indeed, I have!” replied the master, 
laying down his rake ; “ he came here before sun- 
rise, and left me something in writing to give 
you.” He put his hand into the pocket of his 
waistcoat, and held out to Raymonde a letter 
black with charcoal dust. 

She took it with a trembling hand, and then 
seated herself on a pile of fagots, turning her back 
to the coal-burners to conceal her agitation. She 
had a presentiment of trouble, and for some time 
was unable to decipher a word. At last she read 
these brief lines scrawled upon the yellow paper : 

“ Prefontaine has told me everything. Thus, 
at the very moment when I opened my heart to 
you, you deceived me ! You lied — you ! — you 
whom I loved so much ! I will never see you 


154 


RAYMONDE, 


again, and I wdll forget everything like a bad 
dream. Adieu ! ” 

Her heart received a violent shock, her lips 
became pale, her limbs grew stiff, and her head 
fell heavily against the fagots. 

“ O master ! ” cried an apprentice who had 
been watching her slyly behind a tree, “ come 
quick — the young lady has fainted ! ” 


X. 

“What a condition you are in, my poor 
boy ! Where do you come from ? What has 
happened to you ? ” 

These questions burst forth one after the other 
from Soeurette’s lips as Antoine entered the kitch- 
en about nine o’clock in the morning. His feet 
were covered with mud, his clothes were in great 
disorder, and he had the wan countenance and 
heavy eyes of a man who has passed a sleepless 
night. Yerdier, busy with his writing at one end 
of the table, dropped his spectacles in amazement, 
and, biting his moustache, repeated in his turn : 

“ Where have you been, Antoine ? How pale 
you are ! ” 

“ I slept in the open air,” replied Antoine, la- 
conically, “and I slept badly. That is all.” 

“ I will make you some buttered toast ! ” cried 
SoDurette. 


RAYMONDE. 


155 


Thank yon, mother, but I do not want any- 
thing.” 

He went to the pump, filled the brass basin 
with water, drank two or three swallows, and 
then, turning to the good woman who watched 
him anxiously, said in a tone of assumed calm- 
ness : “Mother, I shall set out for Paris to-mor- 
row ; will you get my trunk ready ? ” 

The crash of the ancient forest of Auberive 
falling suddenly into the river would not have 
produced a more profound astonishment than the 
announcement of this departure. Verdier could 
not believe his ears ; the dish that Soeurette was 
wiping slipped from her hands and was smashed 
to pieces on the paved floor. 

“ What ! going away ? ” she stammered, sit- 
ting down and trying to collect her thoughts. 
“ Y^ou must be in fun ! Your leave of absence 
lasts till the 15th of November.” 

“ I have received a counter-order,” he replied, 
not daring to look his mother in the face. “ I 
must go back to-morrow, or I shall lose my place.” 

Soeurette did not say another word. Leaning 
her head on her hands and her elbows on the 
table, she began to weep very quietly. Verdier 
got up with an appearance of vexation, and 
scratched his head violently. 

“ There ! see how she is weeping already ! ” 
he murmured, casting a timid glance toward An- 
toine. “Was there ever such an unreasonable 


156 


RAYMONDE. 


woman ? Since the dear child is going away be- ■ 
fore the end of his vacation, you can understand 
that he is obliged to do so. He loves us too well 
to grieve us if he can help it. He knows very 
well that we have no one but him, that a month 
is a short time after seven years of absence, and 1 
that it will be hard for us when we are again ] 
alone in the house. He knows all this better than 
we do ! ” 

Verdier paused between each sentence, and ‘ 
looked at his son with an air of entreaty, so that 
his words seemed to be addressed to Antoine | 
rather than Sceurette. The young man remained 
motionless, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed, and i 
his teeth clinched. ' 

“ In short, what can you do ? ” continued the | 
forester. “ If the minister recalls him, he must 
go. I believe in discipline. Passive obedience 
is my doctrine ! All the same, M. Noel will be j 
much surprised as well as disappointed ! ” * 

‘‘ I am going there this evening to explain my 
reasons,” interrupted Antoine, “ and he will ap- 
prove of my decision.” 

He was afraid of being moved by their en- 
treaties, and, leaving the kitchon abruptly, went 
to his chamber. 

Sceurette, hearing him go away, covered her 
face with her apron, and sobbed as if her heart 
were breaking. 

“Why do you cry,” said Verdier, “when it is 


RAYMONDE. 


157 


plain that he is determined to leave us ? See what 
it is to have children ! They are like birds ; as 
soon as they get their feathers, they think of 
nothing but quitting the nest ! ” 

He was trying all the time he was talking to 
buckle his gaiters. Did his fingers tremble, or 
was the trouble in his eyes ? He could not make 
the tongue of the buckle catch in the holes of 
the leather strap. He went out at last swearing 
in a suppressed voice, and directed his steps to 
Le Ch§-nois to tell everything to M. Hoel. He 
hoped the old man would use his influence to in- 
duce Antoine to stay at home ; but, contrary to 
his expectation, M. Hoel upheld his pupil’s course, 
declaring that his departure was the act of a sen- 
sible man, and that Verdier himself was the only 
fool in the whole affair. Thereupon he turned 
his back to him and shut himself up in his library. 

Toward evening Soeurette went to Antoine’s 
room to pack his trunk. The young man was 
standing at the window, watching the forest and 
the tree-tops undulating in the west wind with a 
sound like the sea. Soeurette had drawn the 
empty trunk into the middle of the chamber. 

“And so it is decided,” she ventured to re- 
mark in a timid voice ; “ you are determined to 
leave us, my dear son ? ” 

“ Yes, mother, it must be,” he replied, without 
turning round, as if he did not dare to face the 
anxious glance that he felt was fixed upon him. 


158 


RAYMONDE. 


ScBurette shook her head ; then she searched 
the cupboards, emptied the drawers, and began to 
arrange the things in the trunk, now and then 
wiping away a tear that would persist in rolling 
down her cheek. When she felt more calm and 
thought her voice would not be stifled by a sob, 
she hazarded a suggestion : 

“ You see,” she said, “ I have arranged every- 
thing in dozens ; you will have nothing to do but 
take out your^ clothes and put them in your 
closet. I beg you, especially, to place the shirts 
that come from the wash at the bottom of the 
pile, or else you will always wear the same ones. 
Nothing uses up linen like these everlasting wash- 
ings. I would have given you two or three jars 
of my plum preserves to carry back, but they are 
not ready. Ah ! if you could only stay till the 
end of the week ! ” 

Antoine, without replying, sat down at his 
desk and packed his books. Soeurette, while fold- 
ing the garments, slyly watched the contracted 
face of the son she was so soon to lose. She ob- 
served him in profile, his brow bent toward the 
desk, and his eyelids cast down. She saw his lips 
quiver as if struggling to keep back a sob, and she 
could restrain herself no longer. Letting the 
package of clothes fall from her hands, she rushed 
to Antoine, threw her arms around him, and de- 
voured him with kisses. 

‘‘You are unhappy,” she exclaimed, “and are 


RAYMONDE. 


159 


trying to force back your tears. Wby do you 
act in this mysterious way"? Why do you want 
to go away ? Do you think I shall oppose your 
marriage with the young lady at the Mai son 
V erte ? You know very well that whatever pleases 
you pleases me. If she suits your fancy, bring 
her home, and we will love her. But don’t go 
away — don’t go away so soon ! ” 

“It is useless to try to keep me, my good 
mother,” said Antoine, embracing her. “ Believe 
me, I must go. Do not even ask me the reason. 
One of these days I will explain everything.” 

The gentleness and decision of his words in- 
dicated a resolution so unalterable that Soeurette 
ceased her opposition ; but, as her eyes were again 
bathed in tears, she leaned against the window- 
bar to conceal her emotion. It was growing dark, 
the sky was covered with heavy, low-lying clouds, 
and the wind was constantly increasing. It ran 
along the borders of the forest, shook the branches 
rudely, and detached the yellow leaves. Soeurette 
saw, through her tears, this rain of dead leaves 
falling down on the back of the hill. Every gust 
swept away clouds of them, whirling them round, 
gathering them in heaps in the hollows of the 
ditches, or scattering them on the close-cut grass 
of the meadows. This disorderly and melancholy 
flight was also a symbol of departure, for it an- 
nounced the close of the season and the disappear- 
ance of the bright autumnal days. Soeurette 


160 


RAYMONDE. 


thought, with a breaking heart, of the long winter 
evenings she would pass alone over the dying | 
embers, while the son so dearly loved was ex- 1 
posed to all the dangers of Paris. 1 

Poor mothers, how many hours of anguish the | 
hard necessities of their lives have stored up for 
them ! When they were young they said to 
themselves, “ If I were only married to a man who 
loved me ! ” The husband came, often manifest- 
ing little affection, sometimes rude or indifferent. 
Then they wish for a child as a consolation. The 
child is born, and new trials come with it. “ He 
will repay me for all my trouble when he grows,” 
they think in the midst of their sorrows. The ^ 
son grows up, and, when he is twenty years old, 
goes far away, and the mother remains alone with v 
redoubled anxiety. The child belongs to her no 
longer ; it is she who belongs to the child, for , 
he holds, her heart by a chain that is constantly i 
lengthening, and becoming heavier in the same 3 
proportion. ^ 

Such was the train of thought passing vaguely I 
through Soeurette’s mind, while the leaves were i 
flying about in all directions, already far away j 
from the forest. Sometimes the wind seized them 
in a heap, rolled them round, and tossed them J 
wildly over the fields ; sometimes it rocked them 
gently one by one, making them hover like but- 
terflies in the gray evening air. A violent gust 
passed suddenly over the garden, brought in one 


RAYMONDE. 


161 


breath a quantity of plane-tree leaves, and threw 
them into the chamber. One of them, a large 
leaf, much torn by the wind, but still green, fell 
upon the clothing. Soeurette, who had watched 
its course, hurried to the trunk, and, shutting the 
cover, carefully imprisoned this leaf that the old 
garden seemed to send as a relic to the child who 
was going to leave her. Then she sat down on 
the trunk and remained perfectly quiet. The 
darkness increased, and soon nothing could be dis- 
tinguished in the silent chamber but Antoine’s 
shadowy outline, and two luminous points mark- 
ing his mother’s tear-stained eyes. 

While the little house at Auberive was given 
up to disappointment and desolation, matters were 
going on still more sadly at the Maison Verte. 
Raymonde had returned in despair. Her fainting 
turn at the coal-burner’s had not lasted long. A 
few drops of water thrown upon her face had 
quickly brought her to her senses, and, without 
heeding the entreaties of the coal-burner’s wife, 
she had mounted Jannie and ridden away at a 
rapid pace through the clearing. She held tight- 
ly in her hand the note in which Antoine had 
judged her without mercy, and her whole soul 
revolted against the severity of the sentence. She 
would not believe that everything was irrevocably 
ended between them ; her passionate and endur- 
ing love protested against it. She longed to see 
Osmin and break off forever all connection with 
11 


162 


RAYMONDE. 


him. Afterward she would throw herself at the 
feet of Antoine’s mother and beg her to intercede 
with her son in her behalf. No obstacles would 
prevent the accomplishment of her purpose. 

She urged on Jannie at the top of his speed, 
and the little horse, stimulated by the whip, gal- 
loped furiously through the narrow paths of the 
Ronces woods. The branches, lightly touched by 
Raymonde’s skirt, rebounded against Jannie, and 
urged on still more his raging course. The trees 
on both sides of the road seemed to fly in the 
greatest confusion under the gray sky. Ray- 
monde experienced a kind of relief in this wild 
ride, for its fury harmonized with the ungovern- 
able thoughts that whirled through her brain. 

When the equestrienne and her horse arrived 
in full speed before the Maison Verte, Jannie 
could hardly stand and Raymonde was utterly 
exhausted. She felt incapable of speaking a word, 
and, in order to escape questions and explanations, 
went to her chamber and locked herself in. 

Then only, in the solitude of her own room, 
where even at noonday the brown tint of the oak 
wainscoting threw a melancholy shade over the 
furniture, did she realize the whole extent of the 
disaster. Thus far external scenes and the excite- 
ment of her furious race had divided her atten- 
tion ; now a frightful calm and isolation reigned 
around her. The tall mirror reflected her pale 
cheeks and hollow eyes ; the shepherd on the 


BAYMOXDE. 


163 


panel seemed to play on his flute the funereal chant 
of lost loves. The wind whistling in the old chim- 
ney sighed and moaned with a heart-breaking 
sadness. Raymonde never in her whole life felt 
so entirely alone, so hopelessly desolate. 

While she was taking off the skirt of her 
riding-dress, a servant knocked at the door to tell 
her they were waiting breakfast for her. She 
sent back a message, begging to be excused. The 
servant went away, and perfect silence once more 
fllled the apartment. Raymonde, kneeling in front 
of her bed, hid her face in the bedclothes and 
wept undisturbed. The undulating outline of her 
back and lower limbs, and the golden mass of her 
red hair, brought out with marvelous brilliancy 
by the white drapery, were alone visible. The 
tears, held back the whole morning, burst forth 
without restraint. She wept like a child which 
feels its first great sorrow, and abandons itself to 
grief with wild violence. She went on in this 
way for a long time, when a step was again heard 
on the floor of the corridor — a step short, decided, 
and impatient, betraying the imperious character 
of the person who approached. 

‘‘ Raymonde ! ” called Mme. Clotilde from 
without. 

There was no answer but a spiteful movement 
of the shoulders and a more desperate plunge of 
the head in the bedclothes. 

“ Raymonde ! ” repeated the lady in a harsher 


164 


RAYMONDS. 


tone, “ open the door ! I know you are there. 
Let us have no more of this child’s play ! ” 

The mass of red hair moved for a moment, a 
glimpse of the profile was seen, and the girl mur- 
mured in a sullen voice, “ I have the headache ! ” 

“ What affectation ! Your headache did not 
prevent you from riding about the country this 
morning. Come down ; M. de Prefontaine is 
there.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

She sprang to her feet with a bound. Her 
sharp and swollen eyes shone with a ferocious 
brilliancy, and her haughty lips had an angry and 
defiant expression. 

Come, make haste ; he wishes to speak to 
you.” 

“ That is well ; I will come down ! ” she re- 
plied in a determined tone. 

She bathed her face in fresh water, finished 
her toilet in a summary fashion, and descended or 
rather bounded down the stairway. 

When she opened the door of the drawing- 
room, Mme. Clotilde had resumed her place on 
the sofa, where Osmin, already seated, crossed 
and uncrossed his legs with an appearance of 
great uneasiness. M. La Tremblaie, seated in his 
easy-chair, watched with a sleepy eye the efforts 
made by the giant to draw down his black trou- 
sers, much too short, over his great seven-league 
boots. 


RAYMONDE. 


165 


“ Ah ! ” said Prefontaine, holding out his hand 
to Raymonde, “ good morning, mademoiselle. 
Were you really ill ? One would never think so, 
to see your rosy cheeks ! I hope you are better.” 

“Yes, thank you !” she replied, barely touch- 
ing the colossal hand with her icy fingers. 

She went and leaned against her father’s chair, 
as if there alone she hoped to find help and pro- 
tection in the coming combat. 

“Mile. Raymonde,” continued Prefontaine, 
after having coughed to clear his voice, “ we were 
speaking of you. I was telling Mme. La Trem- 
blaie that the repairs at Lamargelle are finished. 
The workmen have left, and I hope that you will 
come soon to see if everything suits you. Now 
that the nest is ready,” he added, timidly, “ I hope 
you will consent to fix the day for the marriage.” 

“ M. de Prefontaine,” answered Raymonde, in 
a very resolute voice, though slightly trembling, 
“ I do not wish to deceive you any longer in re- 
gard to my intentions. I shall never live at La- 
margelle.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Osmin, not understand- 
ing her meaning, “ do you mean to say that you 
wish to remain at the Maison Verte after we are 
married ? I know very well that it is painful for 
a girl to leave her parents, but think that Lamar- 
gelle is hardly an hour’s ride from Yivey.” 

“ That is not the point in question,” retorted 
Raymonde, looking him full in the face. “ Vivey 


166 


RAYMONDE. 


and Lamargelle are indifferent to me. I do not 
wish to be married.” 

M. La Tremblaie raised his head in amaze- 
ment, and Mme. Clotilde started from her seat, 
shrugging her shoulders. She was going to speak, 
but Pr4fontaine made a sign to her to keep si- 
lent, and then went on, with a look of consterna- 
tion : 

‘‘Heavens ! Mile. Raymonde, I remember 
very well that you did not give me a positive an- 
swer when I asked you to become my wife ; on 
my side, I promised to be patient, and not urge 
my suit. However, it seemed to me since — cer- 
tain circumstances made me suppose — in short, 
when I set out for the Morvan, I thought you had 
decided to accept me, and we should be married 
when I returned.” 

“You are mistaken,” she said, curtly, “and if 
my language or conduct has deceived you, I beg 
your pardon.” 

“ At least,” sighed the giant, with a sad and 
dejected countenance, “ if you are not disposed to 
listen to me to-day, let me hope that at some 
future time — ” 

“ Neither to-day nor at any future time,” she 
interrupted him. “ Renounce me : I shall not 
marry.” 

M. La Tremblaie moved restlessly in his chair, 
and turned half round to look at his daughter 
with a kind of respectful awe. The energetic 


RAYMONDE. 


167 


manifestation of will always made a strong im- 
pression upon him. 

“ When will this affectation come to an end ? ” 
exclaimed Mme. Clotilde, bursting with rage, and 
unable to restrain herself any longer. “ How long 
have little girls dared to thwart the wishes of 
their parents ? M. de Prefontaine has our prom- 
ise ; this marriage is decided ; it will take place.” 

‘‘It will not take place,” replied Raymonde, 
becoming very pale, and advancing a few steps 
toward her mother ; “ it will not take place — I 
will answer for that ! ” 

“ Raymonde,” murmured La Tremblaie, in a 
tone of entreaty mingled with fear. 

“ Let her alone ; I know how to bring her to 
her senses ! ” said Mme. Clotilde. “ She may 
choose between M. de Pr4fontaine and a convent, 
and we shall see if she does not sing another song 
when she is shut up within its walls.” 

Poor Osmin, entirely unprepared for such an 
explosion, opened his eyes in consternation. Ray- 
monde, standing in front of her mother, looked 
directly in her face, and tossed up her chin with 
an air of revolt and bravado. 

“ But, my dear,” La Tremblaie ventured to say, 
humiliated by the passive r6le he played in the 
affair, “if Raymonde, knowing our wishes, has 
such an aversion to marriage, I have no desire to 
do violence to her inclination.” 

“ This is marvelous ! ” interrupted the lady, 


168 


RAYMONDE. 


stimulated by opposition. “Uphold her, obey 
her caprices ! ” 

“Not her caprices ; but if she has serious rea- 
sons — ” 

“ Let her avow these reasons ! ” retorted Mme. 
Clotilde, casting a defiant glance upon her daugh- 
ter, who remained unmoved. “She will take 
good care to keep them to herself, for she unites 
hypocrisy with disobedience. I will tell you what 
they are, since you are blind enough not to see 
them. She is in love with this M. Verdier, whom 
you had the imprudence to receive here — a vulgar 
pedant, coming from no one knows where, who 
ate your dinners and courted your daughter.” 

The warm blood mounted to Raymonde’s 
cheeks, and her eyes flashed with indignation. 
With one bound she stood face to face with her 
mother, and, looking straight in her eyes, ex- 
claimed : 

“I will not allow M. Verdier to be slandered 
in my presence ; he is worth more than all of us 
put together ! ” 

“You see,” sneered Mme. Clotilde, beside her- 
self with passion ; “ she dares to boast of her 
lover ! ” 

“Yes, I love him!” cried the girl, without 
even casting down her eyes. 

“ Bold creature ! ” 

The merciless woman raised her hand ; in less 
time than it takes to tell the story, it fell on Ray- 


RAYMONDE. 


169 


monde’s cheek, and the sharp sound of a blow re- 
sounded in the ears of the two men who were the 
astounded spectators of the scene. 

“ Clotilde ! ” stammered La Tremblaie. 

Raymonde was white as marble, and her eyes 
had an expression fearful to behold. 

“ Mademoiselle ! ” exclaimed Osmin, throwing 
himself between the mother and the daughter. 
He dreaded some rash act on her part, and tried 
to seize her hands, which she twisted convulsively 
one within the other. “ Mile. Raymonde ! ” 

‘‘ Let me alone ! ” she rejoined in a hoarse 
whisper. 

She eluded his grasp, rushed to the door lead- 
ing to the garden, threw it open as if life depended 
upon her escape, and disappeared. 

She ran rapidly across the lawn, pushed open 
the gate, and reached the woods by the shortest 
path. She fled with all her might, as if afraid of 
being pursued. It was a wild race, like that of a 
deer chased by dogs. She crossed the thickets 
without caring for her dress torn in tatters by the 
thorns, nor for the darkness which was taking 
possession of tne forest ; for the sky was overcast, 
and the twilight was rapidly giving place to the 
sombre shades of evening. 

She longed to escape, to go far away from the 
house where she had been humiliated before a 
stranger. She felt on her cheek, like a burn, the 
mark of the blow given by her mother’s hand. 


170 


KAYMONDE. 


and the memory of the unbearable insult brought 
tears of indignation to her eyes. 

She sat down for a moment on the side of a 
path to take breath. The most desperate resolu- 
tions took possession of her mind. The deter- 
mination to see Antoine once more and prove her 
innocence was the ruling idea. She must speak 
to him that very evening, whatever it cost. Should 
she knock as a suppliant at the door of that fero- 
cious M. No6l, who detested her, but held a pow- 
erful influence over the heart of his former pupil ? 
“ If I can induce him to listen to me,” she thought, 
‘‘ at least Antoine will not go away believing me 
deceitful and disloyal.” 

She had but one wish, to justify herself ; the 
rest was of little importance. If she lost An- 
toine, the world would be a desert and life of no 
value. She would then find in a nook of the 
forest a pond deep enough to hide her forever. 
She was at an age when death seems easy, and she 
lived at a time when faith and hope were not 
strong enough to make the idea of suicide repug- 
nant to the feelings. 

She sat perfectly still, her forehead resting on 
her hands, while darkness took possession of the 
woods. Suddenly a sound of drops of water fall- 
ing on the dry leaves wakened her from her re- 
verie. She got up and went on her way. The 
great clouds, heaped together by the west wind, 
began to dissolve, and gusts of rain descended 


RAYMONDE. 


171 


upon the wooded hills. It was at first a refresh- 
ing murmur, timidly touching the movable roofing 
of the branches ; then the leaves bent down and 
allowed the cold tears of the shower to pass 
through in all directions. The gusts became more 
violent by degrees, the whole forest was pene- 
trated, the rain fell in great sheets, and Raymonde 
felt it streaming down her neck. None the less 
courageously did she pursue her way over stony 
paths transformed into trenches. At last, at a 
turn of the track, the copse opened before her, 
and she saw at her feet, in the hollow of the valley, 
through the enshrouding veil of mist, the lights 
of Auberive twinkling in the darkness. 


XL 

M. Noel had just finished his supper. He had 
returned to the apartment that served him for a 
library, placed the lamp on his study-table, and 
leaning his head on the back of his leather easy- 
chair, and protecting his feet from dampness by 
the mild warmth of Vagabonde, he was reading 
Lucretius, his favorite poet. A narrow white 
circle over the pages of the book and a few flick- 
ering gleams above among the joists of the ceiling 
was all the light dispensed by the shaded lamp in 
the old study-room. The rest of the apartment 
was plunged into almost entire obscurity, through 


172 


RAYMONDE. 


which there were vague glimpses of wandering 
rays bending under the weight of old books and 
beams fringed with spiders’ webs. 

Three loud knocks on the door of the house, 
coming through the whistling of the wind and the 
beating of the rain against the windows, awoke 
Vagabonde, who started to her feet with a sharp 
bark. 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said M. Noel, “ it is Antoine ; I know 
his way of knocking. Be quiet, Vagabonde — 
rightly named ; you ought to be ashamed to show 
yourself after such misconduct.” 

Having thus vented his feelings upon his dog, 
he left his seat and went to the door. Antoine 
passed rapidly through the kitchen, and returned 
with the professor to the library. While he was 
taking off his dripping overcoat, M. Noel cleared 
a stool piled up with books to offer a seat to his 
pupil. 

“ What bad weather, Antoine ! ” said the old 
man, who marked the changed countenance of his 
visitor, but did not appear to notice it. ‘‘The 
north wind howled so loudly this evening, that I 
took refuge in this den. It is more home-like 
than that great barn of a kitchen.” 

“ M. Noel,” interrupted Antoine, “ I have come 
to bid you farewell ; I am going away to-mor- 
row.” 

“ I know it, my boy ; your father told me, and 
I replied that you did right, and that, if you had 


RAYMONDE. 


173 


consulted me, I would have advised you to go 
away long before this. In certain cases it is 
more courageous to fly from danger than to en- 
counter it.” 

Antoine buttoned and unbuttoned his surtout 
nervously, sighed profoundly, and remained si- 
lent. 

“ I know it is hard,” continued M. Noel. “ Do 
you think that it does not grieve me to see you go 
so soon — you, my sole interest in the world — when 
we have had scarcely any time to talk together ? 
I promised myself much enjoyment in your three 
months’ vacation ; but your future welfare is 
dearer to me than anything else. Remember 
what I told you one evening in the Charbonni^re 
wood ! ” 

“ You were right ! ” replied Antoine, bitterly. 

He leaned his elbow on the table, and M. Noel 
could examine at leisure his contracted features, 
pale cheeks, and eyes full of tears. The con- 
straint the young man imposed upon himself in 
endeavoring to conceal his feelings gave a more 
poignant expression to his countenance ; and the 
good man, sympathizing in this mute grief, was 
moved with paternal pity. 

“ You are unhappy, my poor child,” he said, 
drawing nearer to him. ‘‘ Come, do not be under 
any restraint ; tell me your troubles, if it will make 
you feel easier.” 

Antoine shook his head. 


174 


RAYMONDE. 


‘‘ Come, now, open your heart ; your lamenta- 
tions will not fall upon an indifferent ear. I know 
everything that woman can invent to torture the 
simple-hearted fools that are caught in their 
snares. Tell me the whole story ! This deceit- 
ful girl has refused you ; she did not know her 
own mind ? ” 

“ If it were only that, I could bear it better ! ” 
exclaimed Antoine ; “ but no, she preferred to lie. 

The same words of tenderness that she addressed ; 
to me, the same vows that I received, had been 
already lavished upon another, and she deceived I 
us both ! ” 

“ I know these faithless creatures too well ! ” 
growled M. Noel, striking the table with his fist. 

“ They cannot send you to perdition in an honest 
way, but poison the arrow with a lie, so that the j 
venom may remain longer in the wound.” , 

And yet,” murmured the youth, “ if ever a 
face breathed frankness and loyalty, it is hers. 
Never did clearer eyes seem to reflect more plain- 
ly the sincerity of an upright heart ; never did 
lips appear to express more spontaneously the sen- 
timents of a loving nature.” 

‘‘ Sheer affectation ! They know how to lie to 
perfection ! But at the bottom they are all alike 
— cunning and perverse deceivers ! All the same, • 
my boy, all the same ! ” j 

Antoine was too much absorbed by his sorrow i 
to give heed to M. Noel’s sarcastic sneers. ; 


RAYMONDS. 


175 


“ Why did she make me think she loved me ? ” 
he continued, as if he were replying to himself ; 
“ why did she want to deceive me ? It was so 
easy to say that she was already engaged.” 

“ Precisely ; it was altogether too easy ! 
Women are like cats, which delight in artful ma- 
noeuvres, and never go straight to the point.” 

“ Stop ! ” cried the young man, seizing M. 
Noel’s arm ; “ not another word against her ! I 
feel, in spite of everything, that I love her still, 
that I shall love her always. It may be that I 
have condemned her too quickly ; that this fool 
of a Prefontaine is a vainglorious boaster, and 
that it is he who has spoken falsely.” 

‘‘ Pshaw ! ” said the old man ; “ this is nothing 
but the delusion of a distempered self-love.” 

“ If, however, I were mistaken ? ” repeated 
Antoine, darting upon his old master an anxious 
glance that penetrated his heart. 

“ I am so sorry for you,” replied M. Noel — “ so 
sorry that, if the girl were innocent, and had in 
reality half the affection for you that you still 
feel for her, notwithstanding my aversion to mar- 
riage, I would say to you, ‘Return to her and 
marry her, since you cannot live without her ! ’ 
But I venture to swear that she has sung to Pre- 
fontaine the same romance which she has warbled 
plaintively in your ears. Why should this fellow, 
who is a fool, I grant, but who has the reputation 
of being an honest man, let himself down to play 


176 


RAYMONDE. 


such a comedy ? What proof have you against 
him that cannot be turned with equal force asrainst 
her?” 

Antoine’s head fell hopelessly upon his hands. 
“ You are right,” he sighed, “ but your reasoning 
chills my heart. I feel that something is dead 
within me that will never come to life ; it is faith 
in the word of other human beings. I have a 
wound there that will bleed forever.” 

“ Your wound will close, my poor boy ! ” re- 
plied M. Noel, who had risen and pressed his 
hands with great tenderness in his own. 

Antoine shook his head. 

“You will be cured,” exclaimed the good 
man ; “ you are not made of a different clay from 
your fellow-men ! Look at me. I suffered cru- 
elly a long time ago, and from a more envenomed 
wound than yours. I had, like you, warm blood, 
a tender heart, and sensitive nerves. I have for- 
gotten everything. It is the law of Nature ; she 
gives us forgetfulness to quiet our pains, as she 
gives us sleep to rest our weary bodies. It throws 
by degrees its delicate cobwebs over our wounds, 
and some day the blood flows no longer, the 
wound is cicatrized. We ask ourselves in amaze- 
ment, ‘What has become of my jealousy? where 
is my anger ? where is my malice ? ’ There is 
nothing left ; forgetfulness has hushed everything 
to sleep.” 

There was a moment of silence. The rain 


RAYMONDE. 


177 


beat furiously against the window-panes, and the 
wind moaned in the stairway. Between the gusts 
of the storm a hurried knocking on the door star- 
tled the quiet inmates of the room. 

“ Some one is knocking ! ” said Antoine, list- 
ening. 

‘‘ Nonsense ! it is nothing but the wind shak- 
ing the shutters.” 

A renewed knocking, louder than the former, 
was distinctly heard reverberating through the 
sonorous walls of the kitchen, and Vagabonde, 
starting up, began to bark furiously. 

“ I am sure some one is rapping at the door ! ” 
continued the young man, rising from his seat. 

“ Doubtless some tramp who takes my house 
for a tavern ! ” grumbled M. Noel, lighting his 
lantern. Be easy ; I will find out who it is.” 

He left Antoine with Vagabonde, and descend- 
ed carefully the little stairway leading to the 
kitchen. 

‘‘ Who is there ? ” he called out before draw- 
ing the bolt. 

There was no answer ; or at least if there was 
one, it was blended with the sighing of the wind. 
M. Noel, growing impatient, unbolted the door. 
It was thrown wide open by the violence of the 
wind, which at the same time pushed forward in- 
to the kitchen a woman whose clothes were stream- 
ing with rain. The professor, raising his lantern, 
recognized Raymonde. 

12 


178 


RAYMONDE. 


An idea crossed his brain and increased his 
ill-humor. 

‘‘ She knows that Antoine is at Le Ch^nois,” 
he thought, “ and she has the audacity to come 
after him.” 

“ The person you seek is not here ! ” he cried, 
thrusting back the young girl ; “ go on your 
way ! ” 

“ I seek no one but you, M. Noel. You are 
the person to whom I want to speak.” 

“ What have you to say to me ? ” he replied, 
in the same surly tone, still persisting in prevent- 
ing her entrance. “ Speak, then ; I am listen- 
ing.” 

“ Will you leave me out-doors in such weather 
as this ? ” replied Raymonde, in a voice of such 
utter sadness that the old man began to feel 
ashamed of his rudeness. 

He raised his lantern once more, and looked 
upon the pretty face beaten by the wind and the 
rain. The girl shivered with cold, her wet dress 
clung closely to her limbs, and her hair, scarcely 
protected by a fichu tied over it, was in the great- 
est disorder. M. Noel retreated slowly, and al- 
lowed the importunate visitor to cross the thresh- 
old of Le Chanois. 

“ Indeed,” he murmured, “ she is soaked 
through as if she had just come out of the river. 
Her teeth chatter with cold. Come in, then, since 
you are here. But, above all things, let us have 


RAYMONDE. 


179 


no outcries ; I have a horror of affectation I En- 
ter and shut the door.” 

All this time Vagahonde was throwing her- 
self round like one beside herself. The old man, 
still grumbling, seized a fagot of twigs from a 
corner of the kitchen and threw it on the and- 
irons. He lighted it, and in a twinkling a bright 
flame crackled in the fireplace. 

“See how the fire clears up everything,” he 
said, without looking at Raymonde. “ One must 
be possessed of the devil to run about the coun- 
try in this wild wind ! But nothing in this world 
will prevent a woman from acting like a fool.” 
He pushed a seat in front of the hearthstone. 
“ Sit down and dry yourself ! ” 

“ Thanks ! ” she murmured. 

He shrugged his shoulders with a spiteful ges- 
ture. 

“You need not thank me ; I am acting from 
constraint and necessity. Will that cursed dog 
never be silent ? Wait, I will come back 
again.” 

He half opened the door leading to the stair- 
way, and groped his way to the library, where An- 
toine was walking round in a restless mood. 

“ It is nothing,” stammered the professor, out 
of breath ; “ it is the farmer’s wife who has 
brought the weekly supplies. Don’t be impa- 
tient ! ” 

“I will go down with you,” said the young 


180 


RAYMONDE. 


man, perplexed by M. Noel’s mysterious proceed- 
ings. 

•“ How shall I manage ? ” thought the good ’ 
man, not knowing what excuse to make ; “ it will 
never do for them to meet.” 

“ No, no,” he exclaimed, “ you will be in my 
way ; and besides, I have something more to say 
to you.” I 

He opened a closet, took out a bottle cov- 
ered with dust, which he concealed under his coat, 
and then, giving a rebuff to Vagabonde, who , 
wanted to follow him, slipped away, while An- 
toine watched his movements with a suspicious 
eye. 

When he returned to the kitchen, Raymonde, 
her elbows resting on her knees and her head on : 
her hands, seemed to be absorbed in gazing at the ^ 
flames. She had untied the fichu that served for i 
a covering to her head ; her disordered hair, bathed ^ 
in the golden fire-light, formed an aureole around 'f 
her head ; and her smoking garments showed the 
influence of the increasing warmth. M. Noel took 
a glass from the kneading-trough, half filled it with 
the old wine he had brought, and held it out to 
the girl. 

‘‘ Here,” he said in the same surly tone, “ drink 
this to warm your blood.” 

She raised the glass to her lips and drank one 
swallow, while the old man threw a fresh fagot ^ 
on the fire. ^ 




• RAYMONDE. 


18i 


“ Tell me your story,” he went on, and be 
brief ; I have no time to waste.” 

He continued to walk rapidly around the room 
with a nervous step. A cricket, roused by the 
warmth of the fire, uttered a faint cry behind the 
linen-drier. Raymonde, disheartened by her host’s 
uncivil bearing, tried to speak, but her trembling 
lips refused utterance to her words. 

“ Did you imagine that Antoine was at Le 
Chanois ? Be frank ! ” he said angrily. 

“ No,” she replied. “ It is true I set out intend- 
ing to have a talk with him ; but when I reached 
his house and saw the light in the windows, I did 
not dare to enter. Then I thought of you, and 
the idea of knocking at your door came into my 
head.” 

“ Humph ! Singular idea ! And why did you 
think of me, pray tell ? ” 

“Because I know Antoine loves and respects 
you like a father. If I can convince you of my 
innocence, you will tell him, and he will believe 
you.” 

“ What do you know about me ? ” he growled, 
his anger slightly appeased in spite of himself. 
“ Do you suppose that I am so easily cajoled with 
flattering words ? I am not the person to be se- 
duced by sentimental comedies and falsehoods 
wrapped up in female blandishments ! ” 

“ I am not false ! ” cried Raymonde ; “ I always 
say what I think.” 


182 


RAYMONDE. 


“Do not scream so loud,” replied M. Noel 
rudely, trembling lest Antoine should recognize 
Raynionde’s voice. 

“ I have never played a comedy ! ” she repeat- 
ed, looking him straight in the eyes. 

“ Not even with Antoine ? ” 

“ How was that possible ? I loved him.” 

“ And with M. de Prefontaine ? ” 

“Not even with M. Prefontaine.” 

She stopped, thinking she heard the sound of 
a footstep and a sigh behind a partition ; but it 
was doubtless an hallucination of her ears, still 
ringing with the streaming of the rain and the 
noise of the wind. Nothing disturbed the si- 
lence that prevailed, except the regular chirp of 
the cricket and the sound of the old man’s foot- 
steps as he walked rapidly back and forth in the 
kitchen. 

“ Is that all ? ” he asked, stopping suddenly in 
front of Raymonde. 

“ No,” she replied in a tone full of entreaty ; 
“ be patient with me. Antoine has often told me 
that your rough manner concealed a good heart. 
Show yourself good to me, and listen without 
speaking harshly. You mentioned M. de Prefon- 
taine. Yes, they wished me to marry him. My 
mother desired this marriage, and my father 
thought as she did. I had not met Antoine, I did 
not know what true love is, and M. de Prefontaine 
was indifferent to me. But my mother pretended 


RAYMONDS. 


183 


that this was my only chance, and used all her in- 
fluence to bring about this marriage.” 

A bitter imprecation burst from M. Noel’s lips ; 
then, seeing that the girl, frightened by his words, 
suddenly stopped in the midst of her story, he 
murmured : Go on, go on ; I am listening.” 

‘‘ And then,” she continued, “ I was so weary 
of the life I led ! I do not know whether all 
homes resemble ours ; there is with us a mysteri- 
ous constraint that freezes the heart and prevents 
all intimacy. My father, in his rare moments of 
good health, spoils me and indulges me without 
restraint ; but he seems at times as weary of life 
as if he were condemned to drag a cannon-ball. 
I tell you all these things that you may understand 
my situation. My mother has never loved me ; 
she seems to owe me a grudge for having come 
into the world ; and I do not feel the same affec- 
tion for her that other children have for their 
mothers. But I must appear to you like a mons- 
ter ! ” 

‘‘ No,” he replied with a sigh of relief. “ And 
so you were not happy at home ? ” 

‘‘I was sometimes sad, sometimes wild with 
excitement, but never at ease. You will now see 
why I was not at first dismayed at the idea of 
marrying a man I did not love. M. de Prefon- 
taine offered himself to me ; I neither accepted 
nor rejected him. This is where I did wrong, for 
he took my indifference for timidity, and imagined 


184 


RAYMONDE. 


that I had a fancy for him. He went away, and 
Antoine came to our house. I loved him from 
the first day I saw him, and from that time M. de 
Prefontaine was to me as if he had never existed.” 

“ But why did you conceal from Antoine what 
was going on ? Why did you not break off all 
connection with Prefontaine?” exclaimed the 
good man, betraying by his petulance his increas- 
ing interest. 

“ Why ? I don’t know whether you will un- 
derstand me, but it seems to me I could readily 
understand such a case if any one confided it to 
me. I was so happy in loving, so proud of being 
loved by Antoine, and esteemed him so greatly, 
that my happiness frightened me. I feared every 
moment it would vanish like a dream. I said to 
myseK : ‘ If I speak, perhaps Antoine will love 
me no longer ; and if I lose him, the joy of my 
life has departed forever ! ’ And then, you see, I 
was a coward ; I put off my confidence, thinking 
that by each postponement one more happy day 
was added to those already enjoyed. I have been 
cruelly punished. M. de Prefontaine returned on 
the very evening I had decided to break off my 
relations with him, and to make a full confession. 
Before I had an opportunity to explain, he took 
it upon himself to give his version of the state 
of affairs to Antoine. Therefore I can never be 
happy again.” 

M. Noel, standing in front of the fire, and 


RAYMONDE. 


185 


shading his eyes with one hand, regarded Ray- 
monde with a mingled emotion of pity and sur- 
prise. A magic influence had once more unlocked 
the mysterious hiding-place shut up in his heart. 
The remembrances of his youth sent their pene- 
trating odor to his brain. He thought : “ Once I 
was like her ; I felt as she does in the days long 
past, when I too loved.” And all his mistrust, all 
his prejudices, were neutralized by the perfume 
of true love, which nothing can destroy in souls 
once impregnated with the divine fragrance. 

“ I have told you everything,” continued Ray- 
monde, rising ; ‘‘ do you believe in my sincer- 
ity?” 

“ I believe you,” he murmured, in a tone from 
which every trace of bitterness had disappeared. 
He took her hands, and, as he pressed them close- 
ly in his own, she felt something warm and moist 
dropping on her Angers. She raised her head, 
and saw by the fire-light M. Noel’s eyes glistening 
with tears. “ Pardon me,” he said, hastily ; ‘‘ I 
am nervous, I am a fool ! ” 

‘‘ Ah,” exclaimed Raymonde, ‘‘ you are good ! 
Antoine told me the truth ! Why is he not here 
to listen to me as you are ? ” 

“ He is here,” whispered the good man. 

‘‘Yes, he has listened to you,” repeated an 
exultant voice behind them. 

The door leading to the library was suddenly 
opened, and Antoine rushed into the room. Ray- 


186 


RAYMONDE. 


monde uttered a cry of amazement, and became 
very pale. 

“Can you forgive me for listening at the 
door ? ” said the young man, casting upon her a 
glance beaming with affection. “As soon as I 
recognized your voice, I shut up Vagabonde in 
the den to which I had been banished, and slipped 
down-stairs.” 

The girl trembled so that she could scarcely 
speak. 

“ Do you forgive me ? ” she said, at last ; “ do 
you still love me ? ” 

“ I loved you even when — Ask M. Noel ! He 
saw how miserable I was only a little while ago.” 

“ And now ? ” 

“ Now I am as happy as a king, and as light 
as a feather ! ” he exclaimed, throwing his arms 
around M. Noel’s neck — “ happy, very happy ! ” he 
stammered, hugging him till he was almost stifled. 

“ Let go ! ” growled the old man ; “ because 
you are a fool, it is no reason for suffocating your 
neighbor.” 

M. Noel, unable to conceal his emotion, plunged 
abruptly to the stairway, mounted to the library, 
and released Vagabonde, who dashed to the kitch- 
en, twisting herself in all manner of ways, and 
uttering little muffled cries to such purpose that 
she awoke the raven perched on the cupboard, 
and they both welcomed the lovers after their 
fashion. 


RAYMONDE. 


187 


M. Noel, finding it impossible to keep still, 
threw armfuls of light wood on the live coals, and 
the genial flames gave a festive air to the smoky- 
old apartment. The fire-light leaped from the 
sides of the kneading-trough to the ears of corn 
hanging from the joists ; it danced on the bottom 
of the plates, flashed like lightning on the copper 
saucepans and dusty window-panes, and surround- 
ed Raymonde’s pretty head with a radiant halo. 
Antoine, who had recovered his self-possession in 
a slight degree, suddenly noticed the girl’s disar- 
ranged toilet. 

“ What a condition you are in after being out 
in the pouring rain ! ” he exclaimed ; ‘‘ and how 
did you manage to get away from the Maison 
Verte at this hour?” 

She trembled, and her face took on a disturbed 
expression. She told them of her rupture with 
Osmin, the quarrel with her mother, and the vio- 
lence that precipitated the crisis. M. Noel opened 
his eyes in amazement, and sniffed the air noisily. 
Antoine became absorbed in thought ; his brow 
was wrinkled, and his glance grew dark with 
gloomy forebodings. 

“ I will go to your father to-morrow,” he said, 
“and entreat him. Perhaps his heart will be 
touched ? ” 

Raymonde shook her head. 

“ My father is not the master,” she replied ; 
he never asserted his will in his life, lie is ruled 


188 


RAYMONDE. 


by my mother, and will obey her. Heaven only 
knows what she will advise, for she detests you, 
and has little love for me ! My obstinacy exas- 
perated her ; she spoke of shutting me up in a. 
convent, and she will certainly try every means 
in her power to intimidate me. But I have a will 
of my own, and I will never yield to her plans.” 

“You are a minor, and consequently under 
her control. She can shut you up in a convent 
until you are of age.” 

“ Oh ! ” she exclaimed, in a rebellious tone, 
“ I would rather throw myself to the bottom of 
the sea ! ” 

“ Raymonde ! ” Antoine was walking back 
and forth in the greatest excitement. “ What ! ” 
he cried, in a passionate rage ; “ have I found you 
only to lose you again ? To-morrow, this even- 
ing, perhaps, they will come to tear you away and 
to separate us for years. They can do so ; the 
law is on their side.” 

During this conversation, M. I^roel seemed to 
be entirely absorbed in his own thoughts ; he 
stamped his foot impatiently, and terrible gri- 
maces gave evidence of his emotion. He burst out 
on hearing Antoine’s last words. 

“ The law ! ” he muttered; “how much do you 
know about that ? And if I should speak — Well, 
yes, by all that is sacred, I will speak ! You shall 
be married. I will take charge of the affair.” 

“You, M. Noel?” 


RAYMONDS. 


189 


Antoine was struck dumb with surprise. Ray- 
monde watched the good man’s gesticulations, and 
wondered if he had not become insane. 

“Yes, I myself. There was a time when 
silence was good ; now it is necessary to speak. 
I tell you, everything will come out right,” he 
continued, taking hold of Antoine’s arm. You 
do not understand me ? Pshaw ! there is no need 
of your understanding. Go back to Auberive, 
and keep quiet there till to-morrow evening. As 
to mademoiselle — ” 

He stopped, looking at Raymonde with an air 
of embarrassment. The idea of having a woman 
stay all night at Le Chdnois was very annoying. 
“ The deuce ! ” he grumbled. 

He opened the outside door and glanced at 
the sky. 

“ She cannot sleep in the open air,” he con- 
tinued, as if in response to an inward objection ; 
“ besides, she must stay here till to-morrow.” 

He turned to Antoine : 

“See, thoughtless fellow, to what extremity 
your folly drives me ! Where can I find a place 
for mademoiselle ? ” 

“ I can sleep in a chair,” Raymonde ventured 
to remark, smiling. 

“ Indeed ! ” growled the good man with an 
incredulous look ; “ are you in the habit of sleep- 
ing in a chair ? ” 

He went to his chamber, half opened the door. 


190 


RAYMONDS. 


and stood a moment on the threshold, evidently in 
great perplexity. 

“ At last, the problem is solved ! ” he mur- 
mured ; then turning to Antoine : “ In going 
home, you will pass the farm — they cannot have 
gone to bed yet — and you must tell the farmer’s 
wife that I want her to come here to-night. Now, 
march off ! ” he exclaimed, pushing the young 
man out of the door. 

‘‘ But, M. Noel — ” 

‘‘ Go, and do not forget my commission ! ” 

As soon as Antoine disappeared, the old man 
turned to Raymonde, who sat perfectly still, and 
watched his movements with curiosity. 

“ I will give you my bed,” he continued in a 
tone in which sourness and good-nature were 
strangely blended ; “ evil be to him who evil 
thinks ! ” 

He searched in the bottom of the closet, took 
out some white sheets, made the bed, and tucked 
in the bedclothes. In the mean time the farmer’s 
wife arrived, all out of breath. Without paying 
any attention to her exclamations and looks of as- 
tonishment, the good man contented himself with 
telling her in a low voice : 

“ Mademoiselle is going to sleep here to-night, 
and I rely upon you to serve her as chamber- 
maid. You can lie on a mattress at the foot of 
the bed. As for me, I shall sleep in my chair.” 

An hour after, everything had returned to its 


RAYMONDE. 


191 


usual quiet. The only sounds that disturbed the 
silence were the whistling of the wind in the stair- 
way and the chirp of the cricket on the hearth. 
M. Noel was installed in his chair, while Vaga- 
bonde, posted in front of him, her tail wagging 
and her ears hanging down, seemed to be asking 
him a question in her dumb fashion. 

‘‘Well ! why do you keep looking at me out 
of your round eyes ? ” growled the good man, out 
of patience. “Yes, there is a woman here. There 
are even two of them. It is just so ! Give them 
an inch, and they will take an ell. That will do ; 
we must go to sleep ! ” 

And he blew out the lamp. 


XIL 

At the Maison Yerte they thought at first that 
Raymonde had taken refuge in her chamber, and 
for some time paid no attention to her disappear- 
ance. Mme. Clotilde took possession of Osmin, 
and, getting him into a corner, made a last effort 
to secure the son-in-law of her dreams, who threat- 
ened to slip away from her hands, as a trout, al- 
ready in the weir, by a sudden movement of the 
tail eludes the toils of the fishermen. The lady 
employed her most subtle manoeuvres and enti- 
cing allurements to win him back. In her opin- 
ion, Raymonde’s resistance was not serious ; it 


192 


RAY MONDE. 


was the rash act of a spoiled and willful child. 
If no notice were taken of her, she would come to 
her senses and repent of her folly by the next 
day. But it was useless for Mme. Clotilde to 
struggle for the prize ; the fish would not bite. 
Osmin, thoughtful and suspicious, was entirely 
non-committal. He shook his head, stuck out his 
lower lip, cracked his fingers, crossed and un- 
crossed his legs, without breathing a word. He 
had not the courage, however, to go away. A 
lingering affection for the girl, and a secret fear 
of irritating Mme. La Tremblaie, nailed him to 
his chair. He confined himself to the articulation 
of indistinct monosyllables, the utterance of a few 
sighs, while he cast compassionate glances on M. 
La Tremblaie, who, stretched out in his easy-chair 
with his chin on his breast and his eyes half closed, 
was so overcome by confiicting emotions that he 
seemed to have fallen into a catalepsy. 

When dinner was ready, they looked for Ray- 
monde in vain ; her chamber was empty. A ser- 
vant remembered having seen her go out with her 
head uncovered, and finally every one was con- 
vinced that she had quitted the house. 

“ Where can she have gone on such a night ? ” 
demanded poor La Tremblaie. ‘‘ That child will 
be the death of me ! ” 

“ Bah ! ” replied Mme. Clotilde, concealing her 
irritation under a feigned indifference ; “ per- 
haps she is hiding among her good friends in the 


RAYMONDE. 


193 


village. All she wants is to make us uneasy, and 
give us the trouble of looking for her. It is one 
of her tricks, and you ought to have become ac- 
customed to them by this time.” 

But the hours passed, and Raymonde did not 
return. This was something more than a childish 
frolic, and the anxiety became serious. The good- 
natured Osmin, seeing the consternation of his 
hosts, offered to search for her in the village and 
surrounding woods. He went out with the ser- 
vant-boy, knocked in vain at all the doors, plunged 
into the forest, shouted in all directions in stento- 
rian tones, and returned at midnight, wet, covered 
with mud, and exhausted, without having found 
any trace of the fugitive. 

The night, as may well be supposed, ended 
sadly. Prefontaine passed it, stretched on a sofa 
in the drawing-room. In the morning every one 
was on foot. It was agreed that they should com- 
n.ence making inquiries for Raymonde at Aube- 
rive, and keep on as far as Langres, following up 
any traces of her flight that might be discovered. 

Mme. Clotilde, as usual, threw the whole re- 
sponsibility of the scandal upon M. La Tremblaie. 

‘‘ It was,” she said, “ his want of energy that 
encouraged Raymonde in such wild folly. The 
child had a depraved nature, and required to be 
kept under constant restraint. They did wrong 
to take her out of the boarding-school. But pa- 
tience ! she would teach her better manners, and 
13 


194 


RAYMONDE. 


a good convent with strong walls would he the 
best place for her.” 

She finished her toilet in haste during these 
recriminations, passing every moment from the 
drawing-room to the adjoining apartment, open- 
ing and shutting the drawers with great violence, 
and all the time giving vent to menaces intended 
for Raymonde. 

Meantime, the servant announced that a man , 
wished to see M. La Tremblaie. Before he could 
send back an answer, the door of the drawing- i 
room was opened, and M. Noel, in his green sur- 
tout, and with gaiters reaching to his knees, ad- 
vanced with a nervous step. He brushed by Osmin 
de Prefontaine, and took a stand in front of M. ^ 
La Tremblaie. The room was badly lighted ; 
Raymonde’s father, who had weak eyes, winked 1 
and tried to recognize his visitor, whose strange ; 
face and searching glance seemed to disturb him. j 
“ What do you wish for ? ” he asked at last. 3 
“To talk with you concerning Mile. Ray- a 
monde,” replied the other briefly. I 

“Has anything happened to her?” stam- j 

mered La Tremblaie. “ Where is she ? ” I 

“ At my house.” J 

“ Where did you say ? At your house ? ” cried ii 
Mme. Clotilde from her chamber, who had listened 3 
to the conversation, and hastened to the drawing- 4 
room. I 



RAYMONDE. 


195 


looked at the new-comer, she grew pale and ut- 
tered an exclamation of deep surprise. 

Ah ! ” said the professor, turning to her ; 
“ you have a better memory than La Tremhlaie, 
and you recognized Noel Heurtevant.” 

“ Hem'tevant ! ” murmured La Tremhlaie, his 
lips growing pale and his hands moving nervously 
on the arms of the chair. 

Osmin opened his eyes and looked alternately 
at the actors in the scene. Mme. Clotilde, quick 
as lightning, approached the young man, and 
whispered a few words in his ear. He readily 
understood that his company was not wanted, 
and hastened to get out of the way. When 
he had gone, M. Noel Heurtevant advanced to 
M. La Tremhlaie, who seemed paralyzed with 
fear. 

“You did not expect to find me in this wild 
country,” he said, “ and you thought you were rid 
forever of the troublesome husband whose wife 
you had taken away ? It is one of those chances 
that make us almost believe in an overruling Prov- 
idence, is it not ? ” 

“ What do you want ? ” La Tremhlaie articu- 
lated at last ; “ what do you demand ? ” 

“Yes,” added Mme. Clotilde, who was the first 
to recover her presence of mind, and determined 
to carry a bold face in the matter, “ what do you 
want ? After keeping silent for twenty years, it 
will be of little use for you to indulge in foolish 


196 


RAYMONDE. 


recriminations. There is a law of limitation, my 
dear ! ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” answered M. Noel, without deign- 
ing to look at her ; “ you are greatly mistaken. 
Badly organized as society is, the hour always 
comes when a man may recover his rights and 
avenge himself. You see this plainly, for I am 
here.” 

“You will then force me to return to you ? Non- 
sense ! ” she exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Be easy,” he replied, severely. “I have 
known of your presence in the country for six 
weeks, and have not come near you. My visit 
concerns neither you nor me, God be thanked ! ” 

“ Whom then does it concern ? ” 

“Your daughter.” 

“ Raymonde ? ” 

“Yes, I come simply to ask your consent to 
her marriage with Antoine Verdier.” 

M. La Tremblaie tried to speak, but Mme. 
Clotilde would not give him an opportunity. 

“ Never ! ” she exclaimed, with great vehe- 
mence. “I would rather throw her into the 
water than give her to this vagabond. Never — 
do you understand me ? ” 

“ This marriage must, however, take place.” 

“ In spite of me ? ” 

“ In spite of you.” 

“We shall see. Raymonde is a minor, and 
belongs to me.” 


RAYMONDE. 


197 


“ Much do you know about it ! ” 

“ She is my daughter, and I will compel her 
to submit to my authority.” 

‘‘You had better say our daughter,” he re- 
plied, gravely. 

And as she regarded him with a bewildered 
air, he continued : 

“ Every one in his turn ! I loved you, and 
you abandoned me ; I trusted you, and you de- 
ceived me. You have lived twenty years tran- 
quilly with your lover, while I was left out in the 
cold, and made ridiculous into the bargain. Now, 
not content with having spoiled my life, you at- 
tack the happiness of the only human being I 
love, Antoine, my adopted son ; you refuse to 
give him Raymonde, whom he adores, and, after 
having made me suffer like a reprobate, you wish 
to render him miserable in his turn. Stop there ! 
I take up my arms ; the law is on my side ; I 
shall make use of it to accomplish my purpose. 
The child bom during marriage has the husband 
for its legal father. Our marriage has not been 
annulled ; Raymonde is my daughter ; I can take 
her, carry her away, marry her to whomsoever I 
please — do you understand me ? At one blow I 
am revenged, and two persons are made happy. 
You see plainly that you were mistaken, and that 
there is no law of limitation ! ” 

Mme. Clotilde was stunned for a moment by 
this terrible and unexpected blow; but, if she 


198 


RAYMONDS. 


yielded at first, she resisted all the more violently 
after having received in full front Noel Heurte- 
vant’s final sarcasm. 

“ Very well ! ” she replied, in a rage ; ‘‘ I will 
drag myself before the courts of justice, and my 
advocate will blacken your character in fine 
fashion. You want scandal — you shall have it ! ” 

‘‘The scandal will fall back upon you. I 
did not wish to noise abroad this affair, for the 
sake of your daughter and Antoine ; but you 
prefer to wash your dirty linen in the public 
square.” 

“I prefer every kind of humiliation rather 
than to obey you ! ” 

“ You were an unfaithful wife ; you are an 
unfaithful mother. I am not astonished.” 

“I have a right to be what I please,” she 
cried, furious ; “ but you, you are in my house, 
and you forget yourself. Begone ! ” 

As she pointed to the door with a gesture full 
of indignation, her arm was seized by a trembling 
hand, and La Tremblaie stood erect before her. 
He was very pale, but his distorted features ex- 
pressed both indignant pride and disgust, and 
there was something almost energetic in his glit- 
tering eyes. 

“ Remain, monsieur,” he said, in a firm voice ; 
“ you are in my house.” 

He thrust aside Mme. Clotilde rudely, and she 
threw herself into an easy-chair. She was con- 


RAYMONDE. 


199 


quered, and, like most women who are at the end 
of their arguments, found a vent for her nervous 
rage in a flood of tears. 

‘‘You are right,” continued La Tremhlaie, 
heedless of the lady’s sobs. “ Raymonde must he 
kept in ignorance of this disgrace ; those who 
committed the sin ought to hear the burden. 
What do you demand ? ” 

“Your consent in legal form to Mile. Ray- 
monde’s marriage with Antoine,” replied M. 
Noel. “ I will meet you at noon in the notary’s 
office at Auherive.” 

“We will be there.” 

“ Afterward you will come to take home your 
daughter, who is at my house. The bans will 
be published immediately, and the marriage will 
take place as quickly as possible. I depend upon 
your making such arrangements that everything 
will go on without delay.” 

“ Yes,” murmured La Tremhlaie, “ and I am 
ready to make over the dowry that I have settled 
on Raymonde.” 

“ That is of no use,” rejoined M. Noel, haugh- 
tily ; “we do not want your money. We shall 
not touch it ! ” he repeated, imperiously, seeing 
that he tried to insist. 

La Tremhlaie bent down his head hopelessly. 

“ Is that all ? ” he stammered. 

“No,” replied M. Nogl, in a pitiless tone. 
“ Soon after the marriage the young people will 


200 


RAYMONDE. 


take up their abode in Paris. Raymonde will 
begin a new life, and she must be completely de- 
tached from the influences which have thus far 
surrounded her.” 

M. La Tremblaie understood the conditions, 
and his eyes were full of tears. 

“ You are cruel, M. Noel,” he answered, ‘‘ but 
I submit. Allow that, if I am guilty, I am severe- 
ly punished.” 

He sat down overwhelmed, thinking with 
horror of the existence that awaited him after 
Raymonde’s departure. The professor regarded 
for a moment Mme. Clotilde bursting with anger, 
and La Tremblaie sinking under the burden of 
his sentence. 

Yes, Noel Heurtevant was fully revenged, and 
the punishment was complete. He put on his old 
hat, and buttoned his surtout. 

At noon ! ” he repeated to La Tremblaie, and 
he went out. 

He passed slowly through the linden avenue, 
satisfied with his morning, but grave and al- 
most melanchply. The rain had ceased, a ray 
of sunshine silvered the foliage already more 
thinly scattered, and the wind blew the golden 
leaves in showers across his path. M. Noel quick- 
ened his pace, and came in sight of the cross at 
the forking of the Lamargelle and Auberive 
roads, when an unexpected sight attracted his at- 
tention. 


RAYMONDE. 


201 


M. de Prefontaine’s heavy cabriolet had just 
reached the summit of the hill, and Osmin, after 
climbing it on foot at the side of his piebald horse, 
had taken his seat in the carriage and whipped 
his incorrigible steed. The animal, weary doubt- 
less with the effort required for the ascent, thought 
fit to repeat the manoeuvre so familiar to his mas- 
ter. He kicked under the whip, and lay down 
deliberately in the sandy road. Osmin dismount- 
ed and searched the usual repository, but it was 
of no use to turn his vest-pockets inside out. The 
events that had occurred since the previous even- 
ing had made him forget the lump of sugar, and 
Pigeau, looking in vain for the sweet enticement, 
continued to spread himself out between the thills 
in the most obstinate manner. The unhappy Pre- 
fontaine, overwhelmed by misfortune on all sides, 
and weary of resistance, made up his mind to 
wait Pigeau’s pleasure, and took a seat with be- 
coming resignation on a heap of stones in front 
of his equipage. In this condition of affairs he 
was joined by M. Noel. 

What is the matter with your horse ? ” asked 
the good man. 

“ Nothing,” said the giant ; “ it is a habit in 
which he indulges occasionally. The ascent of 
the hill fatigued him. Pigeau is a good beast, but 
his back is sensitive.” Then he explained ingenu- 
ously his horse’s whims and the method he em- 
ployed to induce him to start. 


202 


RAYMONDE. 


“ Sugar ! ” exclaimed the professor ; “ you 
don’t know how to manage capricious beasts, and 
I advise you never to get married ! Get into 
your seat again ; I will do something that will 
surprise you.” 

He broke off a fine switch from a hazel-bush, 
started up Pigeau with a few sharp blows, who 
little expected this change of treatment, and made 
him step briskly over the road. 

That is the way to manage him ! ” cried he 
to Prefontaine. 

“ Thanks, M. Hoel,” replied Osmin ; then, 
blushing while the old man continued to lead the 
horse by the bridle, he ventured to say : 

I would like to ask you one question. Have 
you seen Mile. Raymonde? Has anything un- 
pleasant happened to her ? ” 

“ Nothing at all ! She is perfectly well,” re- 
joined M. Noel. 

Do you think that she will marry M. Ver- 
dier?” 

“ Zounds ! ” grumbled the good man ; “ since 
they have taken it into their heads to adore each 
other, there is nothing else to do but let them get 
married ! ” 

Osmin gave utterance to a deep sigh. 

‘‘M. Noel,” he replied, “when you see her 
again, tell her I lay nothing up against her, and 
that I hope she will be happier than I.” 

He gave Pigeau a sharp blow with the whip, 


RAYMONDE. 


203 


and the cabriolet soon disappeared on the Lamar- 
gelle road. 

“Worthy fellow, all the same ! ” muttered M. 
Noel. “ Decidedly, men are worth more than 
women.” 

The marriage of Antoine and Raymonde took 
place a fortnight after these events, on the con- 
ditions imposed by M. Noel. The La Tremblaies 
quitted the Maison Verte, and a month later a 
bill on the railing announced the property for 
sale. No purchasers have appeared thus far, 
and it remains uninhabited. The young people 
live in Paris, and spend their vacations with Sceu- 
rette. Mme. Clotilde and her companion have re- 
sumed their nomadic life at watering-places and 
gambling resorts. The unhappy La Tremblaie, 
since he is separated from his daughter, is so 
changed that he can scarcely be recognized. His 
nervous disease is much worse, and he will soon 
be released from the chain to which he is riv- 
eted. 

Osmin de Prefontaine has never married, thus 
carrying out the prediction of the shepherd Trin- 
quesse. He makes frequent visits to M. Noel, 
who has taken a great fancy for him. Vagabonde 
and Pigeau have become intimate friends. Last 
autumn I met all four of them on the outskirts 
of a wood. M. Noel had just gathered a plump 
and appetizing mushroom, and was trying to 


204 


RAYMONDE. 


inspire Osmin with his love for cryptogamous 
plants. 

‘‘ Admirable vegetable ! ” he said ; “ it has all 
the virtues, even that of getting along without a 
woman, and knows nothing of the troubles and 
tediousness of married life. Take off your hat, 
comrade, and salute this model of old bachelors ! ” 


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